


Ever After AU

by TaraTyler



Category: Ever After (1998), Game of Thrones (TV), sansaery - Fandom
Genre: Cinderella Elements, Ever After like the movie, F/F, Tw for abuse but it's skimmed over, and i'll put a warning at the beginning of the chapter, ever after au, sansaery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-12 01:11:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 26,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15328449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaraTyler/pseuds/TaraTyler
Summary: Based off of the 1998 Ever After movie with Drew Barrymore. Sansa as Danielle and Margaery as Henry. It turned out very very well.





	1. Prologue: Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own any of the elements of this story

Sansa had always believed, as a child, she was quite likely the luckiest child on earth to have a father as wonderful as her own. Ned Stark was a very minor merchant lord, and though he had lost his wife Catelyn long before, he still doted upon his young daughter. Sansa thought the sun revolved around her lord father. He read to her and brought her books from each place he traveled to, no matter what. In the meantime, whenever he was gone on work trips, Sansa was surrounded by their wonderful staff and they all treated her as though she was theirs. She deeply believed no child in the rest of Westeros was as loved as she.

“Little Lady! Your father has arrived and he is not alone; get dressed and come to greet him!” Nan bellowed down the hall to Sansa. Sansa was all of about seven or eight and still as rough and tumble as she could be. A recurring theme in her current life had been her need of a mother. Sansa didn’t see it, but apparently, the way she had been acting lately was not reminiscent of a young noble lady.

Upon her coming down the stairs in one of her best blue dresses, Nan looked as though she might fall out in hysteria.

“Your father is coming home expecting a daughter, not a pig out of the mud.” the nurse looked frightened and astonished, but soft corners of her eyes betrayed her affection for her charge. ”Let’s get your face cleaned off for him at the least.”

Sansa smiled and followed her with a happy skip to her step.

\-----/////-----

Outside, the whole household assembled to greet Lord Stark, his new wife, and her three children. The carriage barely had enough time to get to a full stop before Ned had thrown open the door to the vehicle and jumped out.

“Where is my little girl? The young lady who holds my heart in her tiny little hands?” Ned looked around dramatically as though he couldn’t see her.

“Here, Father! I’m over here!” Sansa popped out of the line and only managed to stay still for a moment before giving in and rushing into the older man’s arms. Lord Eddard Stark was a good man and a kind lord to those who worked under his leadership, He was down to earth and loved his daughter and his land, in that order. Now, he was a lord covered in dirt and he did not care. He had Sansa in his arms and that was all that mattered.

Ned kissed her forehead, her cheeks, and the tip of her nose before setting her down. “Allow me to introduce your new step-mother, the Baroness Cersei Lannister.” He gave Cersei his hand as she stepped out of the carriage with a fan in her hand and an unimpressed glare on her face.

The Baroness was a beautiful woman. She was dressed somewhat ostentatiously in a bejeweled dress with a head ornament that reminded Sansa of the peacocks which once wandered the manor property. Long blonde hair fell down in waves across the back of her dress and her eyes burned with something Sansa couldn’t identify. Cersei curtsied gracefully.

“Your step-siblings, Joffrey the eldest, Myrcella the middle, and Tommen the youngest.” Ned introduced them and three more blondes of various sizes emerged, just as beautiful as their mother. Sansa thought their hair looked like spun gold and was a bit envious. Her own hair was a brilliant red, inherited from her late mother. Some considered the shade a curse.

“Welcome to Winterfell Manor, I am Lady Sansa Stark. I am very glad you are here.” she said the words just as she had practiced them with Nan and the maester who tutored her. Politeness had never been her strong suit. When she wasn’t reading, she wanted to be outside in the orchards or gardens.

They greeted one another and introduced the newcomers to the members of their staff. Sansa tagged along on the tour as well and attempted to get to know her new siblings. They seemed much too fancy for the way Sansa had grown up and Nan had told her they might need her help to adjust. She did her best to impart what she knew, but they all seemed a bit irritated by her. Maybe it was because of the age differences or just because they wanted to figure everything out themselves. She wasn’t sure. Sansa could understand both, even at her young age.

By the time the tour was over the manor had begun to wind down for the night. Sansa had brushed out her long red hair and changed into a nightgown. She was tired out from the day’s excitement and her play with the town’s boys earlier in the day. However, Sansa was determined to stay awake until Ned came in to tell her goodnight and tuck her in as he always did when he was home. By the time he got in to see her, she was beginning to think he had forgotten about her.

“Hello, Father,” Sansa said sleepily from beneath her covers. “I was about to decide you weren’t coming.” her tone chastising and one eyebrow was cocked at Lord Ned. The look reminded him of Catelyn until she broke the moment with a yawn

“My apologies, Sansa. Maybe this will make it up to you.” he smiles affectionately at her and pulls out a book. Sansa grins widely and eagerly sits up to look at the gift, her finger tracing the title on the cover. “It’s called “Utopia”. I have begun it and it seems rather good.”

Ned put the tome in Sansa’s hands and she grasped the gift eagerly.

“Now, I must get to bed, my little love. I have a new wife and another business trip in the morning.” knowing she was going to be horribly disappointed. “You will have a new step-mother and step-siblings, though. I hope to leave you not terribly lonely from now on.”

“I hate when you come home only to leave again. You never even stay a whole day anymore. I hate when you leave at all. I want you to be here all of the time… with me. I don’t care about new people. I want you here.” Sansa looked sad and petulant even as he kissed her forehead, tucking her into bed for the night.

“I know, Sansa. I hope one day I won’t have to leave anymore, but for now, this is the way it needs to be. I am sorry, my little love.” Ned seemed saddened. “Good night. I love you, Sansa.”

“I love you too, Father.” Sansa said and turned to curl into her bed around her book.

\-----/////-----

It took a while after the morning bell tolled to get Cersei and her children assembled outdoors to bid Lord Eddard Stark farewell. They did not seem the slightest bit inclined to get out of their beds that morning, whether Ned was leaving or not.

“Well, goodbye family, I ought to be back soon. I hate to be gone for too long. I love you all.” Ned swung himself up onto his horse, blew a kiss each to Sansa and Cersei before riding away once more.

“Well, now that is done, children come back inside for your breakfast.” Cersei rolled her eyes and turned to go back in.

“No! He’s going to turn back and wave at the gate! You _have_ to stay. It’s tradition!” Sansa grabbed Cersei’s skirt and tugged slightly; insistently. The Baroness shrugged her off with a huff but did as she was asked, just in case this was important to Ned.

Just as he was turning to wave as was tradition, he suddenly reached up to grab his arm, then chest, and slowly slid from his horse. He landed flat in the dirt, his legs bent in awkward and unnatural positions. Sansa immediately took off, ignoring the shouts from behind as she ran to her father’s side. “Father!” she cried as she knelt beside of him and shook him, trying to get him to wake up.

“I am here, dearest.” Cersei said as she knelt down beside her husband. Ned turned to meet her eyes, pain coloring his face, before returning his attention to his daughter.

“I love you… Sansa.” were the only words he managed to choke out before his face fell slack and he died. Cersei let out a high pitched keening mourning cry as she collapsed across his body. Sansa stared down at him with tears streaming down her cheeks as one servant or another pulled her away from her father’s corpse.


	2. Part 1: The Escape and First Meetings

Margaery shoved belongings into a haversack as quickly as she could, skipping over the tied together bundle of sheets that would serve her as a rope. She shoved her boots on and dropped the sheet rope down out of her window. Margaery could hear steps outside of her bedchamber approaching, thrust her sword into the scabbard currently hanging from her belt, put the bag over her shoulder and jumped down along the rope to begin her scurry out of the palace and into the night.

With her heart in her throat, Margaery continued to run as her father’s men realized she had escaped. Her boots pounded across the cobblestones as she ran to fetch her horse, cloak pulled close around her face to hide her in the night. With practiced hands, Margaery saddled her horse as quickly as she possibly could, and swung up onto her horse and whispered encouragingly to the steed.

“Let’s go! We need to get out of here, buddy!” she encouraged the horse, and they galloped away. Margaery was concerned about being followed and pushed on well into the morning. When her horse finally began to give out she stopped outside of a small manor, swapped out her beloved horse and grabbed one from their stables to continue on.

The sun was coming up and Margaery thought she could quickly cut through the orchard of the manor as a shortcut. The horse was good and strong, Margaery felt as though she were flying. That is until she wasn’t after a hard knock to the back of her head. Pretty soon she was hitting the ground with hard and oddly rounded objects pounding into her back as the horse stopped fast to wait for her. Margaery decided she very much liked that horse.

She quickly pushed herself up and back onto her feet, fighting to untangle herself from her cloak.

“Stop! Thief!” a girl yelled and hurled what seemed to be a second apple at the back of  
Margaery’s head.

“Ouch! Stop it! That hurts!” Margaery yelled and spun around. Her eyes burned with indignation and a little pain. She must have looked terrifying because the younger red-headed woman fell to the ground on her knees and began to apologize profusely.

“My lady, your Highness, I am so incredibly sorry. I did not realize it was you.” the girl looked much more afraid than the Princess Margaery would have expected. “I hit you and I know that for that I must die, but please, my lady, that was my father’s horse.”

“Uhm, no, you will _not_ have to die for this.” Margaery said awkwardly, she felt oddly guilty. Her own horse was still in this girl’s lord’s stable and was a much more capable beast, but the fact that this girl fully expected Margaery to have her killed and still made this particular and heartfelt request touched her. “You never saw me. If at all possible I will bring her back to you. For your trouble… and for a _very_ good throw.”

Margaery dropped several gold pieces onto the ground and the dirty servant girl with the dark red hair scampered to gather them all. The princess took that opportunity to remount the horse and ride away once more. Once Margaery was good and gone, Sansa Stark got to her feet. She stuck the gold pieces in a pocket and continued to gather apples in her apron for the morning’s breakfast.

At the table, she and Nan (who now doubled as the cook now that the old one had been sacked) placed a set of minute eggs and the apples on the table. Sansa’s step-siblings and step-mother had yet to come down from their night’s rest so Sansa ran up to her room and hid the coins thoroughly. She knew exactly what she meant to do with those, and that meant not allowing her ‘family’ to discover them. As soon as Sansa heard the first syllables of her name being bellowed, she ran down the stairs. She was covered in dirt but did her best to put herself back together before facing them.

“Sansa!” Cersei bellowed and Sansa ran back to the dining room.

“Yes, step-mother?” Sansa asked, anxiously shifting her weight from foot to foot. “What can I do for you?”

“I said I wanted four-minute eggs. Not four one minute eggs, and where in _God’s name_ is our bread?!” Joffrey demanded, his normally ethereally handsome face gone red and hideous with rage. 

“I am taking my children out shopping for clothes that might hook a princess, so I would appreciate it if you would put food on the table worth eating. It is the least you could do after having been so late to get to breakfast.” Cersei said snidely. Her tone was so casual it would have been understandable if you didn’t know Sansa was quite possibly the hardest worker in the manor.

“Yes, Baroness.” Sansa replied and scurried to do as she was bid. Despite seemingly being quite focused on her tasks, Sansa was planning ahead. When she thought about marrying one of her step-siblings off to the clearly an asshole of a princess and having the manor to herself and her staff again, it was what kept her going.

Sansa continued to go about her day, her chores, and service to her step-family until they left on their shopping trip. As soon as they were gone, she grabbed Nan and brought her up into her bedroom, opened the loose floorboard and showed Nan the coins Margaery Tyrell had thrown to her.

“This, Nan, this could get us Hodor back.” Sansa told her.

“Sansa, that is a lot of coin and could serve to get you out of this place one day. Maybe you ought to keep it. My grandson is strong and he cares for you like a sister.” Nan was clearly touched by Sansa’s offer and amazed by the amount of gold.

“No, Nan. Hodor is a member of this family and I am the only Stark still here. I am going to bring him home to us.” Sansa said stubbornly. She packed the coins into a belt-purse and opened up the chest at the foot of her bed. “He’s not been gone for very long, he can’t have gotten very far.”

Tucked inside were four or five gowns, pairs of slippers and jewelry that had once belonged to Lady Catelyn Stark nee Tully. Sansa gingerly and lovingly sifted through them all until she came to the gown she had been looking for.

“Now, if I am to act the part of and carry the coinage of a lady, I must also dress the part. Do you intend to help me or must I do all of this up by myself?” Sansa asked, her headstrong manner beginning to creep into her tone.

“At least we don’t have to worry about you needing to work on the voice. You have that down.” Nan grumbled but began to help Sansa through her minor miracle of a transformation nonetheless.


	3. Part 2: The Miracle Man and Second Meetings

Margaery sped off as soon as she saw the red-headed girl duck down and begin to gather the coin. The incident had given her great pause, but she attempted to shake it off with a toss of her long brown locks. There was something about the younger girl that intrigued her. As she hit the main path once more only to see a group of bandits, arms full of stolen goods, fleeing. Margaery could also see the victim of the crime and began to slow, though now she could hear the horses’ of her father’s men behind her. The small man who seemed as though he might be the Lord who had been robbed waved her down. Margaery grumbled to herself and drew the horse to a halt. He looked to her sword, back to her face, and to her sword again.

“My lady! You see that thief!? That tube he carries contains my life’s work! I must have it back. I beg of you.” his voice was desperate.

Margaery nodded stiffly and jumped from her horse’s back, glancing in the direction the man had pointed. She took off running, boots pounding on foliage as she ducked around trees and under branches. Her legs burned and she reveled in the feeling, despite herself and her current situation. It was good to have some fun since she was definitely caught either way. The thief stopped suddenly and Margaery threw herself at him, not knowing why he had paused.

There was a sudden jolt that came next as they hit the cliff face, bounced close to the edge, and Margaery attempted to wrestle the container away from him. She was successful just as they fell the final handful of yards into the water below. Margaery wrapped both arms around the tube and held it as close to her body as she could before the impact. She filled her lungs with air and began to kick as soon as the shock of cold water rushed over her. It was as good of an abdominal workout as any to kick herself to shore while holding the package with both hands.

“This had better be fucking worth all this trouble.” she groaned to herself as she sloshed herself up to the main path. After a minute she found the very small lord again but the grateful look on his face made the treacherous adventure worth the risk.

“Thank you so much, my lady… or is it Highness? You do somewhat resemble the little girl I once knew.” the man came only about an inch higher than Margaery’s waist at a nearly dwarvish height. “I am Lord Tyrion. I have come at the request of the Crown at Highgarden to attend the ball in honor of the upcoming royal wedding. It appears to me however, you were riding in the opposite direction.”

Taking note of the group of disgruntled soldiers surrounding them, Margaery acknowledged, “Yes, I am she. As I am also apparently caught in my attempted escape, could I offer you an escort back to Highgarden for the remainder of your journey? I do have a horse that needs dropping off on our way, though.” Margaery offered, finding she enjoyed this odd lord’s company.

“I think I would enjoy that.” Lord Tyrion replied with a smile and the soldiers began to accompany the unusual group back to the capitol.

\-----/////-----

“I think you look beautiful, young lady. Catelyn would be so glad to see you like this. You look so much like her.” Nan said upon putting the final touches on Sansa’s hair and turning her around to look her over.

“Thank you, Nan. I will bring Hodor back to us.” Sansa pushed forward slightly to kiss the old woman’s forehead and then her cheek. She slid the too big slippers onto her feet and despite her eighteen years, left the manor looking every inch the lady of the house.

When Sansa arrived at the docks where the sold servants were being held, she could see Hodor and several others being loaded onto the ships. She glanced around to figure out who seemed to be in charge, one fist closed tightly around the small purse of gold left for her by Princess Margaery. It was more money than she had ever seen in her life, but she was more than willing to give it up for Hodor’s sake. Sansa had sworn to herself, shortly after losing her father, she would do whatever was necessary to hold the remainder of her family together. She was intent upon holding true to that promise, no matter what. 

“You have a servant mistakenly sold to you and I would appreciate it greatly if you would return him to me immediately.” Sansa demanded in her most proper lady’s tone. She had certainly heard it used enough by Cersei. “This is the seven gold he was sold for, and an extra three for your troubles.” Sansa offered.

“I do not do what little ladies tell me to. I will take your money and allow you to leave with your safety.” the hulking man scoffed. “Next time keep your servant from stealing other people’s shit.”

“He stole nothing! Return him to me this instant.” Sansa was so angered she did not notice the growing crowd. Her face began to turn the same red as her hair. “I demand you release him at once or I _will_ take this matter up with the king!”

“The king’s the one who has sold him. He is now the property of the Cartier and will remain such until their debts are paid.” the cargomaster said again as Sansa stepped directly into his path and bowed up.

“He is not property at _all_ you ill-mannered tub of guts. Do you honestly believe it’s okay to chain these people up like so much chattel? Return him to me!” Sansa’s voice was more of a growl than a tone befitting a lady.

“Remove yourself from my path or be trampled, lady or not.” The cargomaster shouted down at her as a small party of travelers stopped behind them.

“You dare speak to a lady in this manner, sir?!” asked a voice that was somewhat familiar from behind Sansa and she felt her whole body tense in fear.

“Your Highness… Forgive me, Princess. I meant no disrespect. It’s just- I uh, I am only following orders here. It’s my job to take these criminals and thieves to the coast.” the cargomaster looks terrified, cowed, and ready to drop to his knees.

“A servant is not a thief, Your Highness, and those who are cannot help themselves otherwise.” Sansa turned to the princess and met her eyes steadily, bright blue eyes burning.

“Really!? Well then, by all means, please do enlighten us.” Margaery raised an eyebrow at the brash young lady. Sansa shifted her weight nervously under the scrutinizing looks of all the courtiers before clearing her throat and began to speak, squashing her fear.

“If you suffer your people to be ill-educated, and their manners corrupted from infancy, and then punish them for those crimes to which their first education predisposed them, what else is to be concluded, princess, but that you first make thieves and then you punish them?” Sansa asked and concluded, her eyes darting around in fear as she realized what she had just said and to whom she had said it.

When she looked to the other lords, ladies, and various courtiers she was surprised to find them nodding approvingly; seemingly impressed. Margaery also seemed impressed and mildly interested. Sansa thought the older woman might have even taken the words to heart.

“Well… there you have it. Please release her man.” Margaery instructed, voice suddenly low and authoritative, the tone of someone used to giving out instruction and having her wishes complied with immediately.

“But, my lady?” the cargomaster looked confused and concerned.

“I said return him to her. I can deal with my father if he has anything to say.” the princess’s voice was firm. Tyrion stood proudly in the back of his party smiling at the young lady’s pluck.

“Yes, Princess.” the cargomaster replied, cowed. He went up to the gate and released the largest man in the cage. Hodor lumbered back to Sansa and placed an over-large hand on her shoulder in thanks.

“Hodor, if you would go prepare the horses?” Sansa asked nonchalantly, still playing the role of the courtier. Under her breath, she added: “Meet me at the bridge leading to Winterfell.” Turning to face Margaery, she added, “Thank you, Your Highness. I am not certain I would have won Sir Cargomaster over without your assistance.”

Sansa curtsied and began to hurry away, nearly tripping over the too big slippers. Under her breath, she cursed her luck as she steadied herself on the short lord’s shoulder.

“Do not worry, young lady. I am certain you will grow into them.” Tyrion told her softly so no one else would hear as she crammed her foot back in. Sansa gave him her most grateful smile and memorized the knowing look on his face. There was something about the expression she liked. 

What she didn’t like was that Princess Margaery had dismounted and caught up to her.

“I’m sorry to halt you on your way out of here when you so clearly wish to get home with your man, but is there any chance we have met before?” Margaery places a gentle hand on her shoulder and meets her eyes with a curious look.

“I-I do not believe so, your Highness.” Sansa wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

“I could have sworn I knew every courtier in the province.” Margaery looked astonished and felt rather enthralled with the enigmatic young lady with hair that burned like fire in the midday sun.

“Well, uhm,... I am visiting my cousin.” Sansa lied, though it was a poor lie.

“Who?” Margaery asked, her interest piqued.

“My cousin.”

“Yes, so you said. Which one?”

“Th-the only one I have, my lady.” Sansa did her best to back up her lie, though she wanted to sink through the ground and disappear.

“Are you being coy on purpose or do you honestly refuse to tell me your name?” Margaery lifted a skeptical eyebrow at the redhead, sweat pasting her own brown hair to the back of her neck uncomfortably.

“No,” Sansa said as another burst of anxiety froze her in her tracks. She glanced around for an exit and began to make for the gate once more. “And yes.”

“Well, then, pray tell me your cousin’s name so that I might call upon _them_ to learn who you might be. For anyone who can quote Thomas More must be well worth the effort.” Margaery was bound and determined but still enjoying the verbal sparring.

Sansa stopped once more and met Margaery’s eyes in surprise. “The princess has read “Utopia”?” disbelief colored her tone.

“I found it sentimental and dull. Honestly, the plight of the everyday rustic bores me.” Margaery replied, not realizing how snobbish she sounded. Sansa scoffed at her once more and was again a shock to Margaery’s core. The girl was bold.

“I… take it you do not often converse with many peasants.” Sansa’s look was scolding and even a bit rude. 

“Ha, certainly not, no. Naturally.” Margaery looked confused and astonished.

With an eye roll, Sansa began to walk away again and Margaery worked to keep up with the redhead’s long legs.

“Excuse me, princess but there is nothing _natural_ about not speaking to people because of their status. A country’s character is defined by its _everyday rustics_ as you call them. They are the legs you stand on and they demand _respect_ , not…”

Margaery cuts Sansa off and smiled at the prospect of intelligent conversation once more. She rather liked this young noble woman’s rants. 

“Am I to understand that you find me arrogant?” she asks with a smirk, seeming amused as opposed to the anger Sansa expected.

“Well, you gave one man back his life, but did you even glance at the others?” Sansa gave Margaery another of those hard looks that shook the young princess to her core.

“Please, I am begging of you, a name? Any name.” Margaery asked again, her eyes and tone desperate.

“I… I fear the only name I have to leave you with… is Comtesse- Comtesse Catelyn Tully.” Sansa finally said with a heavy sigh and took her leave quickly.


	4. Part 3: Paramount Privelege and Parties

“That is an odd princess, Captain. If I am allowed to say as much.” Tyrion said thoughtfully as they walked along the road that would lead them directly into Highgarden, the current seat of power in Winterfell.

“Princess Margaery suffers from an arranged marriage, my lord, amongst other things…” the captain said with a dark chuckle of understanding, though admiration and familial affection for the young princess glimmered in his eyes.

“You, young lady, are restricted to these grounds.” said the king of Westeros as he stomped up to them.

“What? Are you putting me under house arrest, Father?” Margaery asked, seemingly amused by the proclamation.

“Do not mock me, girl, for I am of a foul disposition and I will have my way in one manner or another…” the king said in a tone that dropped into a low growl. Margaery scoffed.

“Or what? Will you ship me off to the East Isles like some kind of criminal? All for the sake of your stupid contract?” Margaery’s tone had become less than respectful and they had a small audience, but then most of the castle staff was rather used to the conflict between father and daughter.

“You are the Crown Princess of Westeros!” her father bellowed angrily, his face going a bright shade of red. He almost looked constipated.

“And it is my life!” Margaery shouted back, her knuckles white around the hilt of her sword and her jaw tensing up as she continued to defiantly meet her father’s eyes.

“Mace, please sit down before you have a stroke. Really, the two of you…” Margaery’s mother spoke up in an exhausted voice before turning to her daughter. “Sweetheart, you were born to privilege and with that comes a few specific obligations and often, those are quite paramount.”

“I beg your forgiveness, Mother, but marriage to a complete stranger never made anyone in this room very happy.” Margaery said with a knowing look and the barb only served to anger them both more; probably because it was true.

“You will marry Renly Baratheon by the next full moon or be sure I will strike at you in any way I can.” Mace Tyrell, King of Westeros looked furious. He had been called out on his hypocrisy and he did not appreciate having the truth of it thrown back at him.

“What is it to be then, Father? The hot oil or the rack? How do you _intend_ to strike out at me?” Margaery snarked back.

“I-I will simply deny you the crown and… live forever.” Mace seemed taken aback on top of his fury.

“Good. Agreed. I do not want it.” Margaery rolled her eyes and stormed away. Her mother caught up to her a moment later.

“My little rosebud. If you truly do not wish to marry the Baratheon boy, find someone else, anyone else and I will convince your father. We cannot allow you on the throne unwed. You would appear weak to the other nations. I will convince your father so long as you have someone you are willing to wed by the time of the masquerade ball. Every eligible noble will be there. We will either announce your fiance then or you will marry Prince Renly. We do truly want you to be happy.” the older woman halted her and said quickly. “Invitations have already been sent.”

Margaery sighed heavily, allowed her mother to brush a small brown curl behind one ear before she leaned forward to kiss her forehead.

“I will bear what you said in mind, Mother. I love you.” Margaery turned on her heel, intent on retiring for the night.

“Choose well, my dear, divorce is something they only do in the Isles.”

\-----/////-----

 _a few hours prior_ :

Sansa had lied before about the horses. She and Hodor had made the long trek back to Winterfell Manor on foot. As soon as they approached the manor, Sansa heard a cry of shock and excitement, tinged with sobbing. As soon as Nan, who had been at work in the garden, saw Sansa and Hodor approaching, she ran from the garden and threw herself into the young man’s arms. Sansa watched this from afar for a moment until Nan and Hodor opened their arms to draw her in as well.

Quickly, Sansa gathered an armful of flowers and bravely entered the manor once more.

“Somebody’s in trouble.” Joffrey sang as she came into the dining room where he was playing a dice game with Myrcella.

“What do you mean?” Sansa asked in confusion as Cersei stomped into the room, anger marring her once beautiful face.

“You stupid, stupid girl! How dare you do this to me. To Joffrey and Myrcella! Why this whole thing makes me sick. It is deceitfulness, Sansa, and I will not have it in my house.” her face went a hideous shade of red as she yelled at the very young and frightened former lady of the house.

“Think Sansa, think _really_ hard.” Joffrey said in a high-pitched and irritating tone of voice, with an undercurrent of anger.

From across the room, Myrcella mouthed ‘the horse’ and mimed a horse galloping away with her fingers.

“Uhm, was it that Princess Margaery stole our horse this morning?” she asked in a terrified voice.

“ _Yes_ , and that would explain why she returned the beast this afternoon and retrieved her own mount. How _dare_ you let her surprise us with a visit?” Cersei was leaning into Sansa’s face and backing her into a chair, her voice bordering upon hysteria.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Sansa said as her heart pounded so hard it ached in her chest and felt as though it were attempting to climb into her throat.

“Luckily for you, Joffrey turned in a beautiful performance with the princess. They had quite an interlude.” Cersei said looking satisfied with herself and with her son.

“Yes, I shouldn’t be surprised if she were to drop by again.” Joffrey said with a flaring roll of his shoulder and bat of his eyelashes. 

“Yes, it didn’t seem as though she were assaulting her at all.” Myrcella added with something of a snorting laugh that everyone but Sansa completely ignored.

“Tell me everything that happened. Leave out no detail. She said you were ‘forceful’ what did that mean?” Cersei asked, pacing in front of Sansa where she was imprisoned in the chair.

“I-I called her a thief, my lady. I would not have been able to differentiate her from the Maiden until I saw the pin on her cloak.” Sansa tried to explain herself desperately. Cersei and Joffrey burst into peals of laughter.

“Oh, Sansa, you poor little country girl… well, we must work extra hard to be sure our little manor is spotless, no?” Cersei chortled to herself. “We cannot have a royal bottom seated upon a dirty chaise, can we? No.”

Sansa desperately shook her head back and forth in fear. As she did so, Nan and Hodor reentered the room, sticking close to one another.

“What is _he_ doing here?” Joffrey asked in a disgusted tone as he set eyes on Hodor.

“He has, um, worked off your- er, our debts, young sirs, and madams.” Nan searched her mind for a lie quickly. “They told us he could come home.”

“Oh, fine. Go catch a chicken or something.” Cersei said and dismissed them all.


	5. Part 4: The Comtesse and Cinders

Margaery found herself completely incapable of sleep, tossing and turning constantly. She spent what felt like ages staring up at her ceiling as the evening turned to dusk. Margaery was plagued by thoughts of the Comtesse she had met earlier in the day. No one had ever spoken to her in such a manner. The Lady Catelyn of Tully… she seemed to be a rare woman and wise beyond her what couldn’t be more than twenty years. Margaery knew of only one person who could likely tell her what she needed to know. Luckily her mother had yet to go to bed. She rose, dressed and went to find her. Margaery drew her mother out on a walk in the gardens as a pretext.

“I have not been able to stop thinking about this young woman, Mother.” Margaery finally admitted after a long period of silence.

“Who, dear?” the queen looked intrigued and somewhat surprised.

“After some work, I managed to procure her name. The Comtesse Catelyn of Tully. She is a cousin of- well, actually I don’t know who her cousin is.” Alerie hummed in response and beckoned for her daughter to continue. “Surely you have heard of her.”

Margaery sounded almost desperate and it touched at her mother’s heartstrings. The elder woman wished desperately to be able to help.

“Oh, darling. They are simply too many courtiers to remember them _all_ by name. Why are you asking?” Alerie asked.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I can figure it out on my own.” Margaery replied thoughtfully. She was disappointed but was determined to find out more about the mysterious girl she had met that morning.

\-----/////-----

Early the next morning Sansa was drawn to the front courtyard by the arrival of a carriage, a messenger stepping out to deliver a message of some kind to the Baroness.

“What news of the engagement?” she asked looking down to the very short man whose face seemed to sport a constantly pinched and rat-like appearance.

“Canceled. Rumor has it she must find herself a fiance before _this very ball_ to which you have been invited.” even his voice was slimy and squeaky. Sansa disliked him immediately on sight.

Cersei visibly stiffened. “Well, that doesn’t give us very much time. I shall need to know…” and she placed a gold piece in his hand as she spoke. “Who the competition is, every move she makes, her agenda…” a silver piece, “ And any other pertinent tidbits you might be able to dig up.” she dropped three more silvers into his hand and Sansa flinched. 

He visibly twitched and glanced around to be sure no one was listening and Sansa pressed herself back into the wall tightly. His eyes jumped over her. His voice dropped low and quiet. 

“She will be playing tennis with Samwell of Tarly, tomorrow at noon. They are well known to be good friends. He is likely not a threat or competition.” His smirk brought a nauseated feeling to Sansa’s stomach. She only felt sicker when Cersei brought her hand up to the messenger’s face and dragged the back of one nail down his cheek.

“I have grown rather fond of our intrigues together. I do hope you know that.” Cersei said in a sickly sweet voice. Sansa though she really might retch.

“I am having an inkling, my lady.” his tone was flirty, squeaky, and awful.

“When my son is king or my daughter is queen, perhaps we may come to a new arrangement.” Cersei winked in possibly the most disturbing manner possible.

\-----/////-----

“I would have given almost anything to have seen you all dressed up like a courtier, speaking to the princess like a lady.” said the Septa Mordane, Sansa’s former tutor and current maid of the house as she assisted the young lady in harvesting honeycombs.

“Scolding her is more like it, and I cannot believe I gave her my mother’s name. The woman is insufferable.” Sansa said, and though she was completely covered in cloth from head to toe, Mordane could hear Sansa’s eyes roll.

“Yes. You have been saying that… all day.” Mordane snorted as she spoke and Sansa fought not to be irritated.

“Well, it’s as true now as it was this morning.” Sansa stiffened before covering the hive once more.

“Ohh. Darling, she is royalty. They’re born that way.” Septa Mordane continued to chuckle. She had some idea of what was going through Sansa’s mind and what might be causing her consternation.

“Well, then, I suppose the penalty for being wealthy… is that you must live with the rich.” Sansa sighed heavily as they lifted up their masks and brought the honey inside.

“I would bet she could be quite charming once you got to know her.” Mordane wiggled her eyebrows at Sansa and the girl laughed, her cheeks going slightly pink. She liked when Sansa got to look and act like a girl of her age. The Septa thought Sansa had missed out on fun for too much of her life.

“Honestly, I think she and Joffrey deserve one another.” Sansa scoffed, thinking of Margaery’s attitude towards the common folk.

“Oh, bite your tongue. The only throne I want that boy sitting on… is the one I have to clean every day.” Septa Mordane held Sansa’s ice blue eyes meaningfully and reduced the former lady of the house into a fit of giggles.

\-----/////-----

“What is wrong with this one?” Cersei asked, holding up a pale blue suit jacket made for a rich, embroidered material.

“It’s blue.” Joffrey said in a tone of disgust.

“Yes, and Margaery loves blue.” Cersei points out sounding frustrated.

“Which is exactly why fifty other suitors will be wearing the exact same color.” Joffrey said in a conspiratorial tone.

“Very good, Joff.” Cersei seemed surprised and impressed.

“This one is too small.” Myrcella protested as she struggled with the laces on her dress.

“We shall have to get you a tighter cinch then.” Cersei said with a wicked look in her eyes for her less favored child.

“I cannot breathe as it is.” Myrcella protested, still struggling with the gown.

“If one cannot breathe, one cannot eat.” Her tone was vicious and cruel.

“Mother, focus, please.” Joffrey clapped petulantly, attempting to regain the Baroness’ attention.

“Well, perhaps if I knew what you were looking for.” Cersei protests, standing to follow her son as he threw clothing around.

“Something fit for a king!” he cried and threw himself back onto the bed with a huff.

Cersei thought for a moment as she was struck by an idea and a memory. As much as her plan would hurt for awhile, she knew it would be worth it in the long run. She had to believe that.

“Come, my babies. I have just the thing. We must speak nothing of this though.” Cersei pronounced and led her son and daughter out of Joffrey’s room.

“Oooh, I do love a good intrigue.” Joffrey looked excited suddenly.

They followed Cersei into her room and watched as she stopped at the foot of her bed where a heavy chest of oak wood bound with iron rested.

“Waste not, want not.” she pronounced proudly and bent to open it, revealing a bundle of clothing; suits, gowns, laces, a veil and the most delicate slippers any of them had ever seen.

“Oh, perfect.” Joffrey said in a whisper as Myrcella lifted out a beautiful white dress and Cersei retrieved a matching white coat decorated and embroidered with golden brocade.

“These shoes…” Myrcella said admiringly, tossing the dress across the bed and pulling out the shoes. “Where did you get those?”

“They’re Sansa’s dowry… for her wedding.” Cersei laughed. She couldn’t possibly imagine her daughter ever having a wedding.

“Cinderella married? To whom? A chimney sweep?” Joffrey chuckled darkly.

“Mother, these clothes are hers. Perhaps she would want to wear one of these outfits to the ball herself. The invitation was for all of us of age to attend.” Myrcella suggested suddenly concerned they were invading Sansa’s privacy.

“Since when does a royal function include common folk? Sure, there are the technicalities but she has never shown an interest. This very morning she was covered in ash from reading near the fireplace. She would surely be an embarrassment.” Cersei scoffed and sized the coat against Joffrey’s shoulders. “No one would notice she wasn’t there.”

“Honestly, Myrcella, whose side are you on?” Joffrey asked, just as Sansa entered the room, covered in dirt from her day of work, arms full of firewood.

“What are you doing?” she asked, suddenly flushed with a sinking feeling. All three culprits jumped at the sound of her voice.

“Airing out your clothing for the masque.” Cersei lied immediately.

“Her clothes? But you just said-” Myrcella began but Joffrey cut her off. He gestured to the dress.

“I suppose for a commoner, they’ll have to do. I mean, look at them, they’re practically antiques.” Joffrey choked out, deciding to trust his mother.

“You wish _me_ to attend the masque?” she smiled softly.

“Of course.” Cersei continued, as though it were obvious.

“I don’t know what to say.” Sansa’s voice was soft and touched.

“Say? Honestly, Sansa. It hurts me you don’t know like you’re another daughter to me.”

“I only meant-”

“I thought we could all go as one big happy family. That is if you complete your chores in time and mind your manners until then.” Cersei continued and Myrcella threw the shoes onto the bed, scoffed, and stomped away.

Sansa didn’t understand but watched her walk away.

“What’s the matter with her?” Sansa asked.

“Oh, she doesn’t want you to go.” Joffrey said with a smirk, perpetuating the lie. It gave him the added satisfaction of hurting her feelings. Sansa sighed heavily and went back to her chores.


	6. Part 5: Contemplation and a Good Swim

The next day was bordering upon perfection as Margaery accompanied the Lord Tyrion out to the lake. There was nary a cloud in the sky and a light breeze chased the heat away when it threatened their comfort. The water appeared still, cool, and tempting. Still, Margaery’s mind was troubled.

“My lord, do you truly believe there is only one perfect mate for each person?” she asked disbelievingly as she had since she discovered Lord Tyrion honestly held this opinion.

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Tyrion replied only half-listening. He was completely focused on something else.

“Well, how can you be certain you find them?” Margaery asked. She was there for the conversation as opposed to the beach or the water. Margaery was in breeches and boots as she tended to prefer, the breeches and tunic in a pale golden yellow, almost more of a beige than yellow. A rich purple cape pinned over her shoulders with a pair of silver pins. “And if you do find them, are they really the one for you, or do you only think they are? And what if the person you’re supposed to be with never appears, or she does, but-but you’re too distracted to notice?”

Margaery paced around as Tyrion tinkered with something and stared at her as though she were quite mad.

“You learn to pay attention.” he said gruffly before returning to his work.

“Then let’s say the gods put two people on earth, and they are lucky enough to find one another. But one of them gets hit by lightning. Well, then what? Is that it? Or perchance you meet someone new and marry all over again? Is that the person you’re supposed to be with or was it the first?” Margaery continued her rant, not listening to him, as he began to walk towards the water. “And if so,” she went on, when the two of them were walking side by side, “were they both the one for you and you just happened to meet the first one first? Or was the second one supposed to be the first? And is everything just chance or…” she pauses to throw a hefty stone frustratedly into the lake. “Are some things meant to be?”

“My dear girl, you cannot leave everything to fate. She has a lot to do and sometimes you must give her a hand.” Tyrion put his wooden works on the ground and stepped back with a sigh.

“What is this project?” Margaery asked, a headache beginning to form.

“Would you care to see if they work?” Tyrion laughed and began to take off his shoes.

When Margaery looked over the wooden objects that resembled a pair of small wooden boats. It seemed to her as though sandals had been attached within. Margaery continued to watch and throw stones.

\-----/////-----

Sansa had desperately needed to get out of Winterfell for a while, just to escape her step-family. She had taken one of the pigs, a basket, and a pair of boots to go truffle hunting in the woods. Her feet were pained and tired, she was sweaty and dirty; and though it was one of the more enjoyable jobs, it was dirty work. Once her basket was full, she lashed the pot-belly to a tree and found herself incapable of standing the dirt she was covered in a moment longer. Sansa kicked off her boots and took a running dive into the nearby lake.

She took the time to run her fingers through her hair and across her exposed skin, doing her best to get as much dirt off as she could. When that was done, she spread her arms and legs to allow herself to float. Every once in a while she would sweep out her arms or kick her legs, enjoying the solitude with her eyes closed. When her eyes opened once more, it was to see a small older man standing on the water above her, where no one should be able to stand.

“It looks like rain.” he said with a gesture up to where the clouds had begun to gather.

Sansa let loose a sharp scream she didn’t know she was capable of and thrashed in the water, attempting to get away. Her flailing knocked the water walking man off of his balance and he fell back into the water.

“My lord!? Lord Tyrion?!” yelled a female voice as a girl came running down the hill to their side. “Are you alright?”

“I should leave walking on water to the deities.” Tyrion replied with a splutter and a cough as he and Sansa trudged to the shoreline. “Fortunately, it seems I have tripped over an angel.”

There was a smile even in the lord’s voice that made Sansa happy.

“Comtesse.” Margaery said, her voice pleased and surprised, eyes wide in shock.

“Oh! Your Highness!” Sansa was significantly more surprised and lost her balance, falling into the water. She was embarrassed enough to wish the water would sweep her away.

“Oh, uh, careful.” Tyrion offered her his arm, knowing exactly why she had fallen, but helping her recover. “It is very slippery right there.”

“Here, please, allow me.” Margaery’s genteel side took over and she draped her cape over Sansa’s shoulders when she began to see the cold air taking an effect on the redhead. Her cheeks tinged pink at the action, the smell of perfume on the cloth, and the princess’s proximity.

“Oh, thank you.” Sansa replied in a rather choked voice. The cloth was getting quite wet but Margaery tucked it around her shoulders and Sansa smiled up at her.

Tyrion continued up the hill to put his odd contraptions away as Margaery and Sansa sat in the sand.

“Where are your attendants?” Margaery asked, struck by how the Comtesse always seemed to be traveling on her own.

“I, er, decided to give them the day off.” Sansa replied somewhat awkwardly.

“A day off? From what, life?” Margaery asked disbelievingly. She couldn’t understand half of the things this girl said.

“Well, don’t you ever tire of having people waiting on you hand and foot all of the time?” Sansa asked brashly, looking at the princess as though she were crazy.

“Yes, but they are servants. It’s what they do.” Margaery looked astonished, as though she had never thought of them as individuals or people with their own lives before.

“Well, I wish I could dismiss mine as easily as you do yours.” Sansa scoffed at the princess. She stood, shaking her hair out. “I really must be going.”

“You’re angry with me!” Margaery was surprised and confused, she stood to follow as the redhead began to walk away.

“No.” Sansa replied, lying quite poorly on instinct.

“Admit it.” Margaery ordered, expecting the young woman to do as she was told.

“Well, yes, if you must know.” Sansa turned on the princess and met her gaze with those intense ice blue eyes.

“Why?” Margaery asked. She had never known any truths besides those she was currently regurgitating and had assumed Catelyn of Tully would know and agree with those as well. 

“Because you are attempting to bait me with your snobbery.” Sansa snorted, her temper getting the best of her as she once more began to pick a fight with the royal.

“I am afraid, my lady, that you are a walking contradiction, and I find you rather fascinating.” the princess seemed a bit riled up as they stared one another down. Margaery found the conversation invigorating.

“Me?” Sansa asked, pulling the cape tighter around her.

“Yes, you.” Margaery answered, her own eyes burning now as well. “You spout the ideals of a utopian society yet you live the life of a courtier.”

“And you own all the land there is, yet you take no pride in working it.” Sansa retaliated. “Is that not also a contradiction?”

Margaery startled a little. She still held by the point she had made, but she could understand the meaning in Sansa’s as well. Still, she would not give up the argument without a fight.

“First, I’m arrogant, and now I have no pride. However, do I manage that?” Margaery asked, her brow furrowing but the quirk of her lips betrayed her enjoyment of the conversation.

“You have _everything_ , and still the world holds no joy, “ Sansa said in an impassioned tone as Tyrion came near to listen in. “And yet you insist on making fun of those who would see its possibilities.”

“How do you do it?” Margaery asked, her eyes softening as she watched the other girl her expression plainly astonished.

“What?” Sansa asked, confused now.

“Live each day with this kind of passion?” Margaery asked, her mind already worn from the debate. “Don’t you find it exhausting?”

“Only when I’m around you.” Sansa replied with a small smile and a chuckle. “Why do you like to irritate me so?”

“Why do you rise to the occasion?” Margaery asked back immediately.

They both seemed to realize then how ridiculous the situation was and burst into peals of laughter. It was a perfect moment and Sansa wished time would stop, that is until she heard her name being called out in the distance. When she whipped around to look, she could see Myrcella off in the woods, the pig Sansa had abandoned at her side, plainly searching for her.

“Oh, uhm, forgive me, Your Highness, I’ve lost track of the hour.” Sansa pulled off the cape and thrust the garment into his arms.

“But the wind. It’s perfect!” Tyrion protested, pulling another contraption out, disappointment plain his eyes.

“I am sorry.” Sansa said sincerely.

“I’m playing tennis with Samwell of Tarly tomorrow.” Margaery shouted after the running form. “Will you come?!”

“I must go now!” Sansa yelled back over her shoulder and disappeared into the woods.

“Why does she keep running off?” Margaery asked Tyrion, looking quite starstruck.


	7. Part 6: Gossip and Tennis

Sansa didn’t know why she kept up with the lie she had told. As infuriating as the princess could be, she was whip sharp and quite fun to argue with. Her mind was exhausted but she felt satisfied with her adventure for the day as she ran to catch up with Myrcella.

\-----/////-----

“Mordane?! Where are the blasted candlesticks? We can hardly see our plates.” Cersei said as she turned her pointed nose up at the table.

“They’re missing, my lady. I’ve searched high and low.” she choked out nervously as innocently as possible. Though she knew none of the servants were thieves, it had been more and more common for household valuables to ‘go missing’. Everyone knew exactly who the character was, however.

“The painting in the upstairs hall is gone too. It seems we have a thief in our midst.“ Cersei glanced around the room suspiciously, looking as haughty as ever. “Hmm. So this is how I’m treated after all our years together. My husband’s prized possessions? Well, I shall just garnish your wages until the pilfered items are returned.”

Cersei glanced around the room as Sansa and all of the other servants audibly inhaled.

“Is that quite understood?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am.” they all replied together.

“Perhaps I shall ship you off to the Isles with all the rest of the thieves.” she began to eat her breakfast seeming happy with herself.

“Oh, didn’t you hear? The princess went to the king and asked him to release all of those people.” Myrcella said with a waggle of her eyebrows. She was pleased to know something the others didn’t.

“She didn’t!” Sansa exclaimed from her place against the wall, though she wasn’t supposed to talk during meal times.

“Mmm, and now by-” Myrcella paused as Sansa jumped back into place as Cersei glared viciously. “By royal decree, anyone who sails must be monetarily compensated.”

“Compensated? Oh, honestly. What is the world coming to?” Cersei scoffed and took on her usual disgusted look.

Joffrey jumped into the conversation then. He clearly looked irritated for the attention to not be on him. Joffrey always seemed annoyed whenever Cersei paid Myrcella any mind.

“What I want to know is who this comtesse everyone keeps talking about?” he looked honestly concerned and mildly irritated by the mystery woman. “There must have been ten courtiers speaking of her today… and how the princess fell all over herself.”

Sansa couldn’t hold back her smirk as she poured more juice into Joffrey’s cup and made eye-contact with Nan and Mordane over top the Lannister’s heads. Her cheeks went a bit pink and enjoyed the proud looks on their faces.

“Well, we shall find out who she is and bury her.” Sansa immediately fumbled with a cup and dropped it, terror running through her heart.

\-----/////-----

Margaery was well-known for her bright and competitive spirit amongst the young lords and ladies. This was evidenced by the pride she took in kicking Samwell Tarly’s ass on a regular basis. Besting him wasn’t very hard, and Margaery thought it quite fun. On this one particular and rare occasion, Sam caught a good volley that went soaring harshly over Margaery’s head. She jumped backward and flew back, catching the rubber ball hard with her wooden and tightly strung racket, but falling through the net and into the spectator’s area with a crash. Margaery let out a pained grunt.

“Your Highness, are you hurt?” asked Margaery’s admirers as they swarmed her to check on her and grab whatever handfuls of her they could.   
“Only my pride.” she groaned as she extricated herself and made herself presentable, racket in hand. As she walked back to the game she had to remove handkerchief favors from her shirt with an annoyed sigh.

“The ball, Marge!” Sam laughed and pointed back over the princess’s shoulder. When she turned to look it was in the hand of one young Lord Joffrey Lannister, who looked pleased and proud of himself. He smiled coyly at the princess.

“You look well, Joffrey.” Margaery said, giving him a cursory glance, an _approving_ cursory glance over.

“You’re welcome to look, Your Highness.” he gave the princess a smirk. and the poor girl looked threatened and more than a little disturbed.

\-----/////-----

Sansa was doing the week’s work in the market when a chill ran down her spine. She felt a mild strike of terror and instinctively knew who approached. If she could have run, she would have. Sansa wished Hodor were with her just for a show of strength and support.

“Sansa Stark, you get prettier every week.” said a high-pitched, snobbish, and oily voice.

“And you, Lord Baelish, are wasting your flattery.” she said dismissively, praying one day he would take the hint and leave her alone.

“It’s a pity your soil’s the best in the province and yet so poorly tended.” he lifted his eyebrows at her and licked his lips. Sansa caught the obvious innuendo but decided to ignore the disgusting suggestion.

“We have limited resources, my lord.” she replied softly as Nan and Mordane moved to join her in a practiced maneuver.

“We do the best we can.” Nan said. “Anything I can do?”

“Perhaps you should bring it up with the Baroness and stick to shopping.” Mordane scoffed at him and put herself between Sansa and Petyr Baelish.

“I would really rather discuss the matter with Sansa if you don’t mind.” he said dismissively and turned to the redhead. “I may be twice your age, child, but I am well-endowed… as evidenced by my estate. I’ve always had a soft spot for the less fortunate. You need a wealthy benefactor, and I need a young lady with spirit.”

Sansa swallowed hard, held up the basket in her hands with a smile. “Prunes?” she offered.

“No. I’ll buy nothing this week, and you’d do well to remember that without my generosity…” he said with a low growl and a raised eyebrow. “Your pathetic little farm would cease to exist. So I would be very, very careful if I were you.”

He leaned in close enough she felt his putrid breath warm on her face. If she could have, she would have punched him. Baelish smiled wickedly, turned on his heel and walked away.

“Ooh, what a horrible man.” Nan groaned as all three women watched his strides. “If he didn’t buy a bushel of vegetables every week, I’d spit on him.” she groaned.


	8. Part 7: Candy and Advice

“Here you really have got to try this. I guarantee you it is the most delicious thing you have ever tasted.” Margaery smirked at Joffrey and offered the open tin to him.

As opposed to reaching into the tin and picking out a piece of chocolate for himself, Joffrey leaned into her and opened his mouth, eyes closed. Margaery glanced around looking for an answer to what to do or how to handle the young man. With an extremely confused expression, she reached in, picked up a piece and poked it in his mouth, doing her best to avoid any physical contact with him.

“Mmm.” he hummed and allowed the chocolate to melt in his mouth.

“Don’t even think about it, okay?” the Baroness put out a hand to stop Myrcella from jumping forward to grab chocolate for herself as well.

“Like it?” Margaery asked, still looking mildly threatened.

“Like it?” Joffrey asked in a scoffing tone. “Why… it is positively sinful.”

He maintained heavy eye contact and the princess was filled with a deep urge to run.

“The, uhm, monks in Braavos keep sending bricks of the stuff.” she said and began to continue their stroll through the marketplace, glancing over the different stalls so she would not have to look at him any longer.

“Oh, this one belongs to our family, Your Highness and these are our servants.” Joffrey gestured to the small wooden structure piled high with produce and everything else they could grow or keep at Winterfell.

“Really? Oh, I would love to meet them.” she replied, thinking of what Sansa had scolded her over before.

Nan saw the princess’s approach as she was shucking ears of corn and her mouth fell open. Quickly, she jammed an elbow into Septa Mordane’s rib-cage.

“Good day, ladies.” she greeted them with her warmest smile. Mordane gasped and almost dropped her cup of water.

Sansa glanced up at the worst possible time to meet those eyes once more, and in her shock, the hen she had been wrestling escaped her grasp and flew into the princess’s face. The old nurse used the opportunity to shove her former charge and that memorable hair back behind their cart and out of sight.

“What are you trying to do?! Scare her Highness to death?!” Cersei yelled as Myrcella stifled a chuckle. The small group of men at arms sent to accompany them set Margaery to rights and Sansa peeked a bit around the cart to get a good look at her.

“We were startled. That’s all.” Mordane choked out.

The princess wore fine breeches and a white, plain linen shirt. Over top was a black, almost velvet looking jacket with shiny brass buttons worn open. Sansa wondered what the material must feel like and if all of Margaery’s plain everyday clothes were so nice. With her hair pinned up in that complicated manner, her long neck seemed quite elegant.

“Were there always just the two of you?” Margaery asked. She could have sworn another pair of eyes had briefly met her own.

“And the chicken, Your Ladyship.” Nan added.

Margaery didn’t quite believe it, but she decided to let the matter go.

\-----/////-----

“We must press for a quick engagement.” the Baroness announced to the room as she reclined across the chaise. “Highgarden at Christmas. Can you imagine?”

Sansa continued to stoke the fire but looked up when she realized Cersei was talking to her.

“No. I don’t suppose you can.” Cersei scoffed and Sansa’s expression immediately fell. “My mother was hard on me too, you know. She taught me that cleanliness was next to godliness.”

Cersei stood and moved to sit on the ottoman, tossing her long golden hair back over her shoulders. Sansa immediately started to clean the top layer of scum off of her hands with her apron’s ends.

“She forced me to wash my face at least twenty times a day, convinced it was never clean enough. Still, I was very grateful to her.” Cersei continued as Sansa picked the brush up off of the vanity and began to work it through the Baroness’ hair. “She wanted me to be all that I could be, and here I am… a baroness and Joffrey shall be king.”

Sansa tensed and Cersei turned to grab her arm. She drew the young redhead in front of her and stared deeply into her crystal clear blue eyes.

“It’s a pity you never knew your mother. There must be a little bit of her in you somewhere.” Cersei played with the ends of Sansa’s silky auburn hair.

“I wish I knew what she had been like.” Sansa said lowly, enjoying the fact that Cersei was actually talking to her. Times like these were exceedingly rare.

“Yes. Well, we must never feel sorry for ourselves, must we?” Cersei asked her. “No matter how bad things get, they can always get worse.”

Sansa shook her head and agreed. “Yes, my lady.”

“You have so much of your father in you.” Cersei said with a heavy sigh. “Sometimes, I can almost see him looking out through your eyes.”

The look on Cersei’s face bordered upon affectionate, and Sansa found her heart touched and warmed for what felt like the first time in a long time.

“Really?” Sansa asked in shock.

Cersei’s face filled with spite suddenly once more, as though she had remembered something all at once.

“Yes, well, your features are so masculine.” Cersei scoffed and Sansa’s face fell but she put the mild pain of the barb behind her. “And, well, to be raised by a man-”

Cersei tucked a lock of red hair behind Sansa’s ear and patted her shoulder. “No wonder you’re built for hard labor.”

Sansa blushed and swallowed hard.

“Did you love my father?” she asked, earnest eyes staring into Cersei’s. Cersei cleared her throat heavily.

“Well, I barely knew him.” Cersei was no longer able to look up and meet Sansa’s eyes. If Sansa had not known better, she would have sworn the Baroness was emotional. “Now, go away. I’m tired.”

Cersei waved her hand as a dismissal. Sansa sniffed, put the brush away and left the room. Cersei sighed heavily, rubbed at her eyes and climbed into bed for the night, her mind heavier than usual.


	9. Part 8: Sense and Books

“Look, Jeyne! It’s floating!” Sansa yelled as she ran across the field with a kite in her hand.

“I don’t know why you’re so excited.” Jeyne scoffed as she mixed her paints. “You’re going to be swimming in manure if Joffrey and Margaery get married.”

“And I don’t know why it bothers you so much. I couldn’t care less.” Sansa laughed lowly and spun with the kite.

“Yeah, right. The princess would be your sister-in-law, and you, Comtesse de Tully, would be bringing them breakfast in bed.” Jeyne turned back to her painting.

“Yes, but then they would move into the palace and I could stay with the manor…” the kite fell and Sansa paused to try and get it back into the air. “turn things around- that’s all that matters.”

“You like her. Admit it.” Jeyne shrugged and met Sansa’s eyes.

“Nope.” Sansa scoffed.

“And I-I suppose if you saw her again, you’d simply-” Jeyne chuckled, noticing the princess riding up the hill towards Winterfell behind Sansa by a couple of miles.

“I would walk right up to her and say,” Sansa pretended to approach Margaery, her eyes wide, “Your Highness, my family is your family. Please, take them away.”

“Good,” replied Jeyne. “Because here’s your big chance. She’s heading this way.”

Sansa startled immediately and dove head-first into a bale of hay, just as Margaery rode up and stopped, looking to Jeyne.

“I’m looking for Lord Tyrion. We’re to go to the monastery. Have you seen him?” Margaery asked.

“Tyrion? Uhm, no, Your Highness.” Jeyne choked out almost as though she were scared. She had no idea how to conduct herself in front of the princess.

“Well, is that not his flying contraption? Where did you get it?” she asked, glancing above the hay bale where Sansa was hidden and holding the string to the flying contraption.

“From the Comtesse Catelyn Tully.” Jeyne replied as Sansa jumped and threw the kite up into the air. “She is a friend of his.” Sansa groaned, she should have known this was a terrible idea.

“Do you know her?” Margaery asked, perking up. “I must find her. Where is she staying?”

“Uhm, I believe, Your Highness,” Jeyne curtsied again out of nerves. “That she is, erm, staying with a cousin.”

Jeyne peaked around the princess and towards Sansa’s hay bale. The redhead shook her head ‘no’ emphatically.

“The, um, Baroness Cersei de Lannister.”

Sansa was more than ready to pull out her own hair and murder her friend.

“Hmm. That does present a problem.” Margaery said, seeming mildly annoyed and frustrated.

“But I do know that she is there.” Jeyne added. “Alone. By herself. At this very moment.”

“Excellent!” Margaery said with a grin and Sansa groaned, wanting again for the earth to open and swallow her whole. “That is a nice painting.” she said before riding off again towards Winterfell.

“Jeyne! You horrible little snipe!” Sansa yelled as soon as Margaery was far enough away she couldn’t see or hear them.

“Did you hear that?” Jeyne asked. “She likes my work.”

“And she is headed toward my house.” Sansa growled.

“Then I suggest you run.” Jeyne said with a twitch of her eyebrows.

Sansa grinned and bit her lip before taking off to run through the fields. She knew if she headed through the woods as opposed to the path Margaery was on, even by horseback she could possibly still beat her there. She slipped in through the back door with only seconds to spare. Just as Margaery rode up to the front door, Sansa made it down the stairs, both women took the time to adjust their hair and dust off their clothes.

“Your Highness! What an unexpected surprise.” Sansa said panting, almost falling through the door.

“Why, Comtesse, do you not attend church?” Margaery asked.

“I believe my faith is better served away from the rabid crowds.” Sansa said in her most congenial tone.

“Yes, my father’s new relationship with the church and his edicts have created quite a- a phenomenon.” Margaery shrugged with a sheepish grin. “This is why I am bound for the monastery. The uhm, - the monks of the Mother have an astonishing library. I thought, since you are so fond of reading, I thought perhaps you might join me?”

“It is not _fair_ , my lady.” Sansa chuckled. “You have found my weakness, but I have yet to learn yours.”

Her smile was soft and her eyes kind. Margaery didn’t expect such a look on the usually fierce woman’s face. Blood rushed to her cheeks. Margaery had no idea why she was blushing.

“Well… I should think it was quite obvious.” Margaery said with a small smirk, her eyes earnest. Sansa found her cheeks going pink as well.

“Captain? I shall not be needing my horse or your services.” Margaery turned to the guard and said, then looking back at Sansa. “Today, I am simply… Margaery.”

She offered Sansa her hand and felt a sharp thrill when the contact was made. Her long fingers curled around Margaery’s with a grin.

\------/////-----

The church was a large stone building with beautiful stained glass windows and tall spires. With a sneer, Cersei accepted a page’s hand and assisted her down from her carriage. Her messenger friend jogged up to her and smiled severely.

“Princess Margaery left early this morning, Baroness.” she whispered. “No one seems to know where she went, but I’ve brought you something that will brighten your day.” he said with a wicked grin that twisted his rat-like expression into something even more despicable. “It’s-”

He leaned into Cersei’s ear to whisper so that nobody else could hear.

“Oh, you vicious man.” she said with a falsely affectionate smile. Cersei accepted the small packet of cloth and took off with a little more skip to her step.

\-----/////-----

“Oh, this place is _beautiful_.” Sansa said, running up flights of stairs to look at the shelves of books. “It makes me want to cry.”

“Pick one.” said Margaery, offering the pick of the kingdom to the younger woman.

“I could no sooner choose a favorite star in the heavens.” Sansa said admiring the way the loose brown jacket hung from Margaery’s shoulders.

“What touches you so?” Margaery asked, equally amazed as Sansa was by the number of books. They were surrounded by one of the greatest collections in Westeros.

“I guess because when I was young, my father would stay up late and read to me.” as she spoke, her fingers trailed across the spines of the books reverently. “He was addicted to the written word and I would often fall asleep listening to the sound of his voice.”

Sansa’s voice was hushed and full of heartbreak. Margaery put away the information and locked it away for further thought at a later time. She decided to continue to prod the conversation in an effort to keep Sansa talking.

“What sort of books?” Margaery asked.

“Science, philosophy.” Sansa replied, her smile soft but pained. “I suppose they remind me of him, even still.”

Margaery decided to let Sansa talk about her father as much as she wanted. She had a feeling it had been a long time since Sansa had been able to talk about her memories openly. Margaery wondered if the young woman had been able to speak her true feelings at all. 

“He died when I was eight.” she said with a heavy sigh. “Utopia was the last book he brought home.”

“That explains why you quote it, as though it were a holy book to you.” Margaery said with an affectionate and understanding smile. She enjoyed learning more about Sansa. 

“I would rather hear his voice than any sound in the world.” despite the clear ache in her voice, Sansa managed a smile for Margaery. The brunette looked below towards the monk who was singing in an old language. Her face took on a disparaged look that broke Sansa’s heart a bit.

“What’s wrong?” Sansa asked, immediately wanting to help.

“In all my years of study, not one tutor has ever demonstrated the passion….or the love of learning you have shown me in the past two days.” Margaery said, her eyes shining and amazed. “You have more conviction in one memory… than I have in my _entire_ being.”

Margaery turned without waiting for a response to head back down the stairs.

“Your Highness, if there is anything I have said or done-” Sansa began, worried she might have somehow insulted or offended the princess, before getting cut off.

“Please, don’t.” said Margaery quickly. “It’s not you.”

The princess’s eyes were sad and disappointed. In a sudden moment of clarity, Sansa realized she hadn’t hurt Margaery. The young woman had had an epiphany and seen herself as a person outside of her crown, and she had not liked what she had seen.


	10. Part 9: Adventures and Intrigues

After stepping out of the service, Cersei ushered her children off to the side and pulled out the cloth package and pushed it into her son’s hands, he looked inside and gasped.

“Hurry up, Joffrey. It’s now or never.” she patted his shoulder and he bit his lip to look anxiously into his mother’s eyes. She nodded at him and confidence came back into his eyes. He nodded back and took off to go find the queen.

She was already in her carriage and still dressed in full regalia, speaking to another woman seated across from her.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” Joffrey interrupted them and bowed low. “But you seem to have dropped this on your way out.” he pulled the necklace that had been in the cloth packet out and offered it up to the queen.

“Why, my goodness.” the queen was plainly quite surprised. “I do not remember putting this on. Thank you, child.”

Joffrey nodded with his most demure smile, eyes down and looking up through his eyelashes.

“It is a rare person indeed who would return such a valuable keepsake.” the queen lifted her eyebrows and turned to her companions and husband who also nodded.

“You are too magnanimous, Majesty.” he said and his eyes brightened, he bowed again a bit more shallowly.

“How very kind.” said Alerie and turned to a maidservant. “His name?”

“Joffrey Lannister of Winterfell Manor.” the girl answered immediately.

“Joffrey?” the queen stopped him as he was backing away. “We shall have a chat tomorrow, you and I. Bring your mother as well.”

“As you wish.” he answered and bowed again.

\-----/////-----

“Well, this is truly, terribly embarrassing.” Margaery stalked around the lopsided carriage and frustratedly ran her hands through her hair. The axle of the carriage’s wheel had broken about a third of the way back to Winterfell.

“We’ll head back to the monastery at once, Your Highness.” said the driver, and started the trek back.

“And we shall continue on foot.” replied Sansa with confidence, giving Margaery no room to argue.

“But it’s a half a day’s walk.” Margaery complained, re-adjusting her jacket.

“Honestly, Your Highness, where is your sense of adventure?” Sansa looked the other woman up and down teasingly. The younger smirked, turned on her heel and started down the path ahead of the princess. Margaery scoffed.

“Well, I guess if you put it that way.” Margaery jogged to catch up with her long strides.

\-----/////-----

“Now, babies, we can’t get over-confident.” Cersei said as they stepped out of their carriage in front of Winterfell. “The princess was not in church today, and we need to know why.”

“Joffrey always gets to do everything. Why was I not invited?” Myrcella groaned.

“‘Cella, the queen doesn’t even know you exist.” Joffrey scoffed.

“What Joffrey does is for all of us, my dear.” Cersei said dismissively as she waved off her daughter. “We are counting on you to help him get ready.”

“Lovely.” Myrcella scoffed. “The next thing we all know, I shall be cleaning the fireplace with Sansa.”

Myrcella spun and stormed into the manor angrily, blonde curls bouncing and flying behind her. Joffrey hummed lightly to himself and followed.

“Where is that girl?” he asked himself. “Probably off catching rabbits with her teeth.”

Cersei chortled to herself and entered the manor after her children siblings. Nan stopped her for a brief moment on her way through the door.

“I am sorry, my lady-” she said nervously. “But that gilded mirror in your bedchamber- did you move it?”

“Of course not.” Cersei replied, her brow furrowing. “Why?”

“Uhm- it’s also missing, my lady.” Mordane answered, plainly terror-stricken.

“Then it, too, shall come out of your pay.” Cersei said with a scolding and disgusted look.

“Either you stop telling her when things go missing-” Septa Mordane threatened Nan, “Or we’ll be paying her to work.”

“It’s a good thing I didn’t mention the tapestries then.” Nan chuckled darkly, and they shut the doors to Winterfell.

\-----/////-----

Margaery stomped around the base of the tree, plainly irritated and frustrated. She was definitely letting everyone know how miserable she was. Sansa was getting the feeling the princess didn’t get out to the woods much. “One would think I would know the way to my own castle.”

“Why is it your type never thinks out of the box in times like these?” Sansa replied with a laugh. Margaery fought to keep from looking up to meet those brilliant blue eyes, knowing she would most definitely see something she wasn’t meant to see. This was even truer due to the fact that Sansa’s dress was currently slung over one of Margaery’s shoulders. “I found it! It is back that way!”

At that, Margaery had to look up to see where Sansa was pointing.

“And I still can’t believe I’m down here while you’re up there.” Margaery continued to complain. “And in your undergarments, no less.”

“I couldn’t climb up here in that gown now, could I?” Sansa asked, laughter in her voice. Despite keen eyes, Margaery couldn’t find the redheaded girl amongst the branches and the leaves. “Besides, you might have broken your royal neck. Then where would you be?”

“You swim alone, climb trees and mountains, rescue servants.” Margaery laughed admiringly. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

Sansa laughed back gleefully, her arms spread wide to feel the light breeze, loose red locks flowing out behind her.

“Fly.” she announced with a sigh, bathed in the sunlight. Margaery had a feeling she would not forget that image for as long as she lived. “Now, turn around, Highness, that I might climb back down from my perch.”

Margaery chuckled and turned obligingly, wondering at how she had never met anyone like this woman in her life. As she did so, she was met face first with a dirty fist to the nose.


	11. Part 10: The Lost and the Enchanted

The group of bandits shouted and laughed as Margaery pitched backward and fell back in the leaves. She landed on her ass in the leaves. She fought back onto her feet woozily and shoved her hair out of her eyes.

“Oh, no. It’s you again.” she groaned as she recognized them as the group that had robbed Lord Tyrion’s carriage. There were anywhere from fifteen to twenty bandits surrounding them on all sides, including the tree Sansa was in.

“Stay aloft, lady. There are games afoot.” Margaery announced drawing her rapier quickly, a dagger in her other hand. As soon as she had adjusted her grip, the lead bandit jumped forward to attack and Margaery only barely managed to parry.

Sansa paused in her descent to look down at the fight. Margaery was successfully holding off the bandit while the rest stood off in a semi-circle, enclosing the girls against the cliffside. Sansa nodded to herself and started to climb down faster. As the bandit fought Margaery she glanced up for only a moment and caught a look at the young lady in her undergarments. She was so surprised, Margaery managed to thump the woman on the head with the hilt of the sword, and rendering her unconscious.

“My wife thanks you for the fancy dress, little lady!” shouted an older, snaggle-toothed bandit.

“You will give me back my dress, sir!” Sansa yelled, finding a wide branch she could step out on headed towards the man. She continued the climb down as Margaery gained a new and more talented opponent, their weapons whipping through the air intensely. Margaery found herself pinned against the stone wall and for a moment thought she had lost the battle until their swords raised and she saw the opportunity. She planted her foot in the man’s middle and he pitched backward quite suddenly.

The man balanced against the tree with Sansa’s dress turned his attention back to the fight and she took the opening. She jumped from the branch and onto his back, shoving him into the ground. Even as she attempted to wrest the dress from his grasp, other bandits grabbed her and pulled her off of him; effectively restraining her.

“Get her!” the man said his jaw muscle clenching and twitching with anger. The man holding her put a knife to her throat angrily, just as Margaery punched out another bandit.

“Let her go. Your quarrel is with me.” Margaery ordered. She was exhausted and drenched in sweat, but was prepared to do whatever needed to be done to continue the fight.

“Release her.” said the groggy leader of the bandits as she forced her way to her feet. The bandit holding Sansa shoved her out of his arms and into the leaves.

Sansa immediately whirled around to face him again. “I insist you return my things at once.” Sansa ordered in her best Comtesse voice. “And since you deprive me of my escort, I demand a horse as well.”

Margaery found herself more impressed with Sansa than she had been scared of the bandits. The bandits themselves seemed to agree.

“Why, milady, you may have anything you can carry.” the lead bandit said with a wry and amused look.

Sansa took a moment to consider the proposition. Margaery grew increasingly concerned.

“May I have your word on that, ma’am?” Sansa said just to double-check. The princess found herself worried Sansa would actually take them up on the offer.

“On my honor as a thief- whatever you can carry.” the bandit leader promised.

Sansa stepped up to look her in the eye and turned to head towards the princess and the main path. Margaery sincerely thought Sansa would leave without her until the girl lifted one of Margaery’s arms and slung the princess across her shoulders. The heir to the throne was quite confident she had never been more embarrassed. The group of bandits laughed heartily. The princess a bit more comfortably settled, Sansa nodded to their leader and began to walk away with her prize. Even the leader began to chortle then.

“Oh, wait! Please, come back!” she yelled to stop Sansa and the princess. “I’ll give you a horse.”

\-----////-----

Nan and Septa Mordane were finishing their nightly routine in Cersei’s room. The Baroness herself continued to stare out of her window out over the Winterfell grounds.

“I want to be informed the minute she gets home.” Cersei ordered, anger clear in her voice as Nan dumped the chamber-pot out of the window. “Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.” they replied.

\-----/////-----

“You must be reading my thoughts, milady.” Sansa laughed as she played rock-paper-scissors with the princess, relaxed by her company and a rough wine gifted by the impressed, and bested, bandits. 

“And they are just as fuzzy as my own.” Margaery laughed

“So, does the Crown concede?” Sansa asked, her competitive side slipping out.

“Never!” Margaery proclaimed.

Sansa leaned in to whisper to the princess. “My next choice… is paper.” She informed her, and they went again, Margaery accurately spotted the lie and beating Sansa’s rock with scissors. They both fell into peals of laughter.

“Your turn now, so it had better be good.” Sansa teased, they had been trading secrets, the loser giving one up every time.

“I have no desire to be queen.” Margaery admitted, just drunk enough to give up her most closely held secret willingly.

Sansa was visibly perplexed by that one, going so far as to set her cup down.

“Oh, but think of all the wonderful things you could do…” Sansa’s voice was amazing, she didn’t understand why Margaery was unimpressed by all of the possibilities. “For your country, for the world.”

“Yes, but it would be terrible to be so defined by your position.” Margaery told her. “To never be seen as who you are, but only what you are. You have no idea how insufferable that can be.”

“You might be surprised.” Sansa chuckled darkly.

“Really?” Margaery asked disbelievingly.

“One of these bandits, for example, is rarely painted as anything other than a bandit. They are just as defined by their status as your title defines you, yet it is not all they are.” Sansa began to explain. “You have been born to privilege and with that comes specific obligations.”

Margaery began to smile slowly at the other girl. She found Sansa amazing and Margaery could never anticipate what she was going to do or say next. Sansa began to chuckle softly.

“I am sorry. My mouth has run away with me again.” Sansa covered her mouth and giggled.

“No, milady.” Margaery shook her head slightly and smiled softly at the other girl. “It is your mouth that has me hypnotized.”

The princess found herself wholly unable to tear her gaze away from Sansa’s. Sansa was plainly taken aback and swallowed hard, having trouble looking up to meet the intense, honest look. She didn’t know what was happening or how to react. However, when Margaery began to lean in and one hand began to cradle the base of Sansa’s long neck and her head Sansa leaned in and met Margaery halfway.

Their lips met very briefly, for only a moment really. Sansa wasn’t even sure the bare brush of their lips ought to count as a kiss until Margaery leaned in once more. Her mouth was soft but strong and Sansa happily pressed against her with equal fervor.  
“Ohh!” yelled someone from around the campfire, and people began to laugh from all over the campsite. They cheered the pair on to the point Margaery and Sansa had given up and joined in.

Later into the evening, Margaery returned Sansa to Winterfell on their borrowed horse. They had shared a most wonderful night, and returning to the manor and her step-family sounded like the worst possible idea.

“Oh, right here, please.” Sansa stopped her, not wanting someone to out her just yet. “I don’t want to wake anybody up.”

Margaery slid off of the horse and offered to assist Sansa down, almost bodily lifting the other woman to the ground. When she set her down they were less than an inch from one another and both of their faces flushed.

“You saved my life, you know, back there in the woods.” Margaery told her, holding Sansa by the waist; not wanting her to move any further away.

“A girl does what she can, my lady.” Sansa said with her most honest grin.

“Margaery.” said Margaery with another earnest look.

“Margaery." replied Sansa with a sad and affection look, and Margaery took a deep breath in an attempt to settle her racing heart. The only cure appeared to be to kiss Sansa once more. The soft touch of their lips signaled a goodbye and Sansa turned to walk away.

“Catelyn?” Margaery called after her. “Do you know the ruins at King’s Landing?”

“Yes.” Sansa replied.

“I often go there too - well, to be alone.” Margaery told her, looking vulnerable in that way she got whenever she would ask Sansa for anything.

“I shall try.” Sansa agreed.

“Then I shall wait all day” promised Margaery.

Sansa bit her lip with a grin and blush before turning to go back to Winterfell. Margaery’s heart pounded as she watched Sansa walk away. She already yearned desperately to hold Sansa again.

\-----/////-----

The next morning Margaery opened the drapes of her parents’ canopy bed with a flourish.

“Off… with his head.” the king mumbled in his sleep.

“Mace, wake up.” said the queen. “Our daughter has something to tell us.”

“Mother, Father.” Margaery greeted them. “I want to build a university with the largest library on the continent, where anybody can study, no matter their current station.”

“All right. Who are you? What have you done with our daughter?” Mace Tyrell, the King of Westeros asked, still in his pajamas and half-asleep, looking honestly worried.

Margaery laughed to herself and turned to walk away, but quickly turned back around and whipped open the curtains again.

“Oh, and there is a thieves guild I want to invite to the ball.”


	12. Part 11: Thwarted Goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to stick as close to the movie as possible so there is a mention of abuse in this chapter. You can successfully continue to read this story if you skip it, but the actual abuse is not depicted in any manner, though the aftermath is

Sansa woke up when she was struck smartly with a broom. Her step-family stared down at her in stark confusion, almost as though they didn’t know who or what they were doing.

“Are you ill?” asked Cersei, her brows furrowed in what could be misconstrued as concern or worry if Sansa hadn’t known better.

“No.” she replied, though her head had begun to pound as soon as she had woken up. Sansa groaned, covering her eyes. “Yes.”

“Where were you?” Cersei asked, poking her again as they all crossed their arms stubbornly.

“Mmm.” she hummed, trying to come up with a lie. “I got lost.”

“I don’t believe you.” Cersei responded immediately. “You’re hiding something from me. I can feel it.” she said suspiciously. “I demand to know the truth.”

“Why don’t _you_ tell me so I can get back to sleep?” Sansa whined, just wanting to be left alone.

“What about our breakfast?!” Joffrey protested, his mind blown at the prospect of Sansa not making his meal.

“You have _two hands_.” Sansa informed him. “Make it yourself.”

Cersei and Joffrey spun to face one another in absolute shock. Neither of them had any idea of what to do, as though they had been told something rude.

“Why, you lazy little leech!” Joffrey screeched.

“Myrcella, go and boil some water.” Cersei ordered with a neer, looking down at Sansa as though she were nothing.

“Me? Boil water?” Myrcella asked as though she had never thought to consider such a thing. She sighed sharply. “Oh, I knew it. I just knew it.” She turned and stomped off to do as she was asked.

 

Sansa slept for a few more hours before getting back to work. She headed out to the garden after getting dressed. She didn’t want to be around anyone, and that seemed to be the best place. She found solitude, at least for a few more hours.

In a hushed tone, from one of the overlooking windows, Nan called out to Sansa in a quiet tone.

“Mistress! You better get in here quick!” it sounded important, so Sansa rushed there almost immediately.

Sansa checked all of the rooms and it seemed like everything was alright until she came to Cersei’s room. When she saw what her step-family was doing, she felt as though all of the air left her body, all at once. Once again Myrcella had those beautiful slippers in her hands and Joffrey was sliding an arm into the white and gold jacket.

 

“Oh, look who finally decided to grace us with her presence.” Cersei said with a dark chuckle, almost as though she was amused. Sansa felt fire rise up in her chest.

“What do you think you are doing?” Sansa asked, her head still hurting almost enough to cause her to be ill. She was angry and sad; unsure of what to do next.

“I’m trying on my new suit.” Joffrey scoffed. 

“Do you honestly think after that performance this morning, I’d let you go anywhere?” Cersei asked the enraged girl in a tone matching her son. “Do _you_ honestly think these games, these intrigues, are going to win you a crown?” Sansa asked in much the same tone as she began to stalk into the room, anger beginning to color her voice. Myrcella rushed to set the slippers down again, fear and nervousness in her eyes. “To hunt for royalty as though it were some kind of sport- it’s disgusting” Sansa’s tone had gone from almost amused to derisive.

“You’re just jealous.” Joffrey sneered.

Sansa lifted the slippers and waved them. “These are my mother’s.” her voice became pained, almost heartbroken.

“Yes, and she’s dead.” Joffrey laughed.

Sansa remembered distantly, something she had seen during Margaery’s fight with their new bandit friends, and from there instinct took over. Her fist made contact with Joffrey’s nose before she knew what was happening. The blonde boy tumbled backward over the bed in a somersault. She heard Myrcella gasp, but words tore through her throat before she could do anything about them. “I am going to rip your hair out!”

Sansa rushed to grab her.

“Mother!” Joffrey yelled.

“Mother, do something!” Myrcella yelled as well.

Joffrey ran through the hall and down the stairs away from Sansa who still gave chase as the boy screamed. The effort made more difficult since she still held the beautiful shoes in one hand. Joffrey fled to the lower floor, through the guest room, the dining room, and into the parlor with the taller redhead on his heels. He screamed again and came to a stop once he saw the precious copy of Utopia on the mantle above the fireplace.

“Get away from me, or the gods so help me,-” he panted and held it out over the fire.

“No, Joffrey, don’t! Put it down!” Sansa said desperately.

“Give me the shoes!” Joffrey ordered.

“Put it down!” Sansa cried back as the servants heard the commotion and rushed in, followed shortly by Myrcella, Cersei, and even Tommen.

“Consider carefully, Sansa-” said the Baroness. “Your father’s book or your mother’s shoes. Though neither is going to save you from a sound lashing.”

Joffrey licked his thick lips and glanced down into the crackling fire, blood still running from his nose. Sansa felt almost as though she were being forced to choose between her parents themselves. In a spur of the moment decision, Sansa thrust the slippers into her step-mother’s arms, her heart breaking a little more as she did so. Joffrey grunted and threw Utopia into the flames anyway, smiling to himself as Sansa collapsed to the floor.

“No! No!” she cried and jumped towards the flames, Cersei only just managing to catch her before she managed to leap into the fire as well. By the time Cersei let her go, the precious book was beyond rescue. Sansa turned her back to them all and sobbed to herself as everyone else watched the old book burn.

\------/////------

Sansa wore only her underdress and laid flat out on her stomach, hiding her face in her pillows away from Myrcella. The gown was stuck to her back in places with warm, wet, and sticky blood. She let out a sharp whine every time her step-sister put one of the cold cloths over an injury. 

“Oh.” she groaned and Myrcella hissed in sympathy.

“Now, you really brought this upon yourself, you know.” said Myrcella, almost conspiratorially in a way. “Hmm? First with breakfast and then that horrid display downstairs.”

“I really don’t know what’s come over me.” Sansa cried softly into her pillow, refusing to look at Myrcella despite the other girl’s gentle tone.

“Of course, I shall never forget the way…” Myrcella paused in her ministrations and thought back wistfully. “Joffrey’s feet went up over his head.’ They both giggled softly. “She should not have said that about your mother.” Myrcella added regretfully. 

Myrcella began her work again and Sansa hid her face once more, unsure of how to relate to this kinder, gentler step-sister.

“Thank you.” Sansa mumbled so quietly the other girl could barely hear her.

\-----/////-----

“Oh, you really must allow my doctor to take a look at that.” the queen told Joffrey carefully, as she was very much unsure of the boy. “To think you saved a baby from a runaway horse, what a sight to see.”

“It was just one of my more noble instincts, Your Majesty.” Joffrey replied, sporting a brilliant pink and purple eye.

“Oh, I am so sorry my daughter can’t join us,” the queen added, “but she seems to have disappeared again.”

Cersei’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Again?” she asked.

“Yes,” asked Alerie, clearly ready to vent and looking for an opening. “She was gone all day yesterday and did not return until near dawn.”

Cersei’s brow furrowed then with realization. “Well, must be marvelous to have that kind of stamina.” she said with a non-committed chuckle.

“Perhaps you could help solve a mystery for me.” the queen began, a bit of excitement coloring her voice and eyes, sitting up a bit taller. “Do you know the Comtesse de Tully? Apparently, she’s staying with a cousin, but nobody seems to know who that might be.”

Joffrey and Cersei glanced thoughtfully to one another, as the Baroness recognized the name.

“Catelyn de Tully?” Cersei asked to be sure she was thinking of the correct woman.

“Yes! Oh, how wonderful!” Alerie seemed quite pleased that Cersei knew of whom she spoke. “I was beginning to think she might be a ghost.”

They all laughed, though Cersei had to force her out through gritted teeth and angry eyes.

“No, I’m afraid she’s been around for years.” Cersei’s laughter was choked and angry. “Yes, and uhm, staying with us as a matter of fact. Isn’t that right, darling?”

Cersei looked at Joffrey forcefully, her eyes ordering him to agree with just one expression.

“Yes, of course.” he said immediately. “Our cousin.”

“Oh, hm, good.” the queen chuckled, and Cersei glanced back to her son.

“The one whom you like to call Cinderella.” Cersei told him in a tone full of meaning, her dark green eyes intense.

Joffrey’s face twisted up in shock. He stood quickly and stomped away from the table into the gardens. Joffrey wasn’t far enough away they couldn’t see him, so they all watched him jump up and down, squealing in tantrum-like anger. He screeched and stomped, amazing the queen. Joffrey took deep settling breaths and returned to his seat.

“Good heavens, child.” the queen looked openly concerned and horrified. “Are you alright, son?”

Joffrey put on his most demure tone of voice and smiled sweetly. “There was a bee.” Cersei chuckled and hummed to herself at the choice of a lie.

\-----/////-----

Miles away, birds chirped on a perfect summer afternoon at the ruins of King’s Landing. Birds chirped merrily and the sun shone brightly as Margaery sat in the remnants of a window in the ruins, reading as she waited to see if Sansa would show up.

The taller redhead made herself take the steps, though even just walking reignited the sting in the cuts across her back. She wandered through the ruins looking for the princess, but took her time, admiring all of the things she saw.

“Hello.” said Margaery, when Sansa rounded the corner.

“Hello.” Sansa replied. She had had no idea of what she would say when she met up with the princess. Sansa had hoped the words would come once they were together, but it only hurt worse and got harder when Margaery was before her.

The princess was plainly excited as she put her book in the back of her breeches, and rushed to greet her. She was clearly missing the very negative headspace Sansa was in. The pain was very clear on Sansa’s face, however. Margaery was concerned immediately, though she could not possibly grasp what had happened.

“I fear that I am not myself today.” Sansa said, her eyes swollen and face pale. Exhaustion colored everything about her posture. Margaery had no guesses as to why either. She was too excited to notice the subtle signals coming from Sansa. 

“I feel as if my very skin is the only thing keeping me from going everywhere at once.” Margaery said with a smile that stabbed right into Sansa’s heart.

“There is something I really must tell you.” Sansa choked out, barely able to form the words herself.

“And I you.” Margaery agreed a little over-passionately. “Oh, here. Your book. You-you left it in the carriage yesterday.”

Margaery passed the tome to Sansa with a wide grin.

“Your Highness-” Sansa said, trying to keep the princess from saying anything else.

“Margaery.” she corrected immediately.

“I cannot stay long, but I had to see you.” Sansa began. She sighed heavily, trying to keep herself from crying. “There is so much to say.”

“Come. I want to show you something.” Margaery ignored Sansa’s protests. She took Sansa’s hand and led her through the ruins. “I used to play here as a little girl. This was my father’s most cherished retreat before the war.”

Trees grew in the little chapel area, the roof blown off long ago. The birds had begun to nest in the remnants and they sang happily all around the two young women. 

“It is beautiful.” Sansa said with a relaxed sigh.

“I have measured my life by these trees.” Margaery continued. She knelt down and pointed at the base of the tree. “Starting from here, now all of the ways up there.” she gestured to the top. “And still they- they grow. So much life to live, but I no longer imagine experiencing the journey alone.”

Sansa choked back tears again and gasped for breath to be able to speak. “You’re not making this easy.”

“I have not slept for fear I would wake to find this to be a dream.” Margaery stepped close take Sansa’s hands in her own. “Oh, last night, I had a revelation. I used to think that if I cared about anything, I would have to care about everything and I’d go stark raving mad. But now I’ve found my purpose. A project actually, inspired by you, and I feel the most wonderful… freedom.” Margaery drew Sansa along and pulled her against herself, tilting her forehead down to meet Sansa’s chin, then up again to tilt against the other woman’s forehead on her tiptoes. Margaery couldn’t see her but could hear Sansa sniffle.

The princess chuckled. “Catelyn.” Margaery sighed. “You are unlike any courtier I have ever met. Tomorrow at the masque, I shall make my feelings known to the world.”

“Oh, why-why did you have to be so wonderful?” Sansa said in almost a whimper. Margaery cupped her cheek and held her close.

“Now, then, what was it you wanted to tell me?” Margaery asked.

Sansa continued to cry and pulled herself away from the princess.

“Simply that last night was the happiest night of my life.” Sansa said through her tears. She tried to turn to go, but Margaery took her hand and prevented her from leaving. Margaery kissed her softly and Sansa pressed back into her. The princess held her tightly as though she were afraid the girl would leave her at any second. Margaery squeezed and a burst of pain shot through the cuts across Sansa’s back.

“Oh, ow!” Sansa hissed and jumped back.

“I’m sorry! Have I hurt you?” confused, Margaery apologized immediately.

“I must go.” Sansa clenched her jaw and turned to flee.

“Catelyn.” Margaery protested as Sansa began to mutter ‘no, no, no, no, no” under her breath, pain like fire tearing across her back as she ran.


	13. Part 12: The News

Sansa had thought she had been her utmost sneaky self upon returning to Winterfell Manor and all she wanted to do was crawl up in her room and cry for a while. Instead, she was met by Cersei and Joffrey at the top of the stairs.

“Of all of the insidious jokes- turning your mother into a comtesse.” Cersei snorted and sneered. “Why it’s almost as absurd as a princess who spends her days with a servant known to sleep with the pigs.”

Sansa was very much not in the mood to deal with her ‘family’. She was running purely on exhaustion, anger, and pain. Sansa didn’t want to hear anything against herself or Margaery and didn’t care about what might happen to her.

“What bothers you more, Step-mother-” Sansa began in a choked off and hoarse voice. “That I am considered common or that I am the competition?”

“Where is the dress, Sansa?” Cersei got in her face and asked in a low, dangerous voice.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sansa replied in a depleted tone of voice. She really just wanted to go to bed.

“The gown, the slippers, the jacket…” Joffrey broke in. “All of it was in my room this morning, and now they’re all gone.”

“You hid them! I know it!” added Cersei, in what almost amounted to a shriek, prompting Nan and Hodor to run down the stairs in alarm. “Where did you put the clothes, Sansa?!” screamed Cersei. 

Sansa felt rage bubbling up inside of her like a fire building. The wave of frustration built upon everything, all of her pain, the years of abuse, and just Cersei’s face in front of hers; now her fury overflowed.

“Where are the candlesticks and the tapestries and the silver?” Sansa asked, her voice building as she found herself unable to hold the rage back. “Perhaps they are in the same place!”

“You will produce them all!”

“I would rather die a thousand deaths…” Sansa said in a voice that was more of a snarl. “than to see my father’s clothes on that spoiled, selfish cow.” She had begun to physically shake with her anger. 

Nan watched in horror as Cersei dragged Sansa by the ear down the hall and shoved the girl in her room.  
“Get in there!” Cersei bellowed. She slammed the door and bolted it shut. The Baroness turned to her children and the servants. “Open this door, and you’ll wish you never set foot in this house. Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen gather everything left in this manor that will fetch a price. We’re going to town first thing in the morning.”

“Mother, it’s only a ball.” said Myrcella. 

“Yes, and you’re only going for the food.” scoffed Cersei. Myrcella groaned and sighed to herself.

\-----/////-----

“Engaged?! To an Essian!” Margaery exclaimed to her mother, shock, and heartbreak suddenly written across her face.

“I’m afraid so.” the queen replied sympathetically, clearly hurting on behalf of her daughter.

“That’s impossible.” Margaery swore to herself. “There has to be some mistake.”

“She was to be traveling by boat this afternoon.” Alerie replied sadly. Margaery began to stomp away.

“Baroness Cersei was quite reluctant to talk.” Alerie added.

“Well, it’s no wonder when the tidings are such as these.” Margaery laughed darkly. “If she were betrothed, then she damn well should’ve had the decency to say something!”

“Would you have listened?” Alerie asked, pointing out Margaery’s own stubbornness.

“Of course not!” Margaery shouted. “I would’ve-” she stopped herself suddenly. She sighed suddenly, breathing heavily at her realization.

“Oh, by the gods.” she sighed. “How could I have been so blind? There I was pouring my royal heart out, and she was simply trying to bid me farewell.”

“Only a very strong person can keep their wits about them…” Alerie said softly, her hand cupping her daughter’s cheek. “With you trying to steal her heart.”

“Yes, and what a clumsy thief I have turned out to be.” Margaery said softly and sadly.

“Oh, come now, Margaery.” Alerie protested as her daughter stomped off to mourn in peace. “Any choice is better than the Baratheon boy!”

\-----/////-----

“You must go to the princess and tell her what has happened.” Nan told Jeyne quietly, back in town.

“B-b-but I am nobody of any consequence.” The young girl protested. “The princess would never see me.”

“You are Sansa’s friend, Jeyne.” Nan argued. “And she needs your help. The princess expects to see her.”

“I-I cannot.” Jeyne continued. “Besides, my master has me working tonight.”

“Then go to Lord Tyrion. Surely one artist can get an audience with another.” Nan continued.

“I am but an apprentice painter, and he is known worldwide for his works as an architect.” Jeyne sounded almost hysterical. “I could no sooner garner an audience with the Maiden herself.”

“For once in your life, girl, be bold.” Nan pinned the young lady to the wall, glanced to where the Lannisters had finished their shopping and bustled to catch up with them.


	14. Part 13: The Rescue

Fireworks burst overhead as Jeyne ran through the crowd of nobles heading toward the masquerade ball. Back at Winterfell, Joffrey, Myrcella, Tommen, and Cersei were dressed in their best finery; heading down to their carriage. As they left the manor, they passed right by the cellar where Sansa was being kept.

“I wanted to be the peacock.” Myrcella complained.

“Honestly, ‘Cella, the horse is one of the gods’ noblest creatures.” Cersei said dismissively.

“Well, why don’t I just pull the carriage while I’m at it?” Myrcella snorted and laughed.

“If you think we’ll get there any faster.” Cersei mumbled to herself, pushing past Myrcella to get into the carriage.

The ballroom was decorated with colors of red and gold, torches lighting everything and everyone. All those in attendance sparkled and shone like stars. Margaery knew she had never seen so many beautifully outfitted people in one place before. The attendees danced on a raised platform in front of the dais on which the king, queen, and princess sat. The crowd spun and swirled in time with one another, perfectly coordinated to the rhythm of the music emanating from the orchestra.

Jeyne threaded through the crowds, amazed to have made it that far. She asked the kindest looking noble lady she possibly could. “I’m looking for Lord Tyrion.”

“He’s the very short man over there, dressed like a lion.” the woman said with a soft smile.

“Thank you, my lady.” Jeyne said quickly before rushing to the Lord. Her heart pounded with fear and anxiety at the prospect of speaking to her hero.

“My-my lord.” she said upon tapping his shoulder and promptly fainted. Tyrion turned and looked at the unconscious girl fallen flat on the ground.

“Yes?” he asked.

\-----/////-----

“Gaah.” Nan groaned when the file would not fit into the lock. “Oh, mistress, it’s no use!”

Sansa barely paid any attention as she sat in the cold, damp and dark. By this point, she had nearly given up hope.

“Allow me.” said Tyrion as he arrived at the door as well. He pulled a tool from his sleeve and with only a few swift motions, removed the hinges from the door. The pins clattered to the floor and he pulled the door back, allowing Sansa to escape her cage.   
“Oh! Brilliant.” Nan exclaimed, feeling ridiculous for not seeing the answer in front of her. “That was genius.”

“Yes, I shall go down in history…” Tyrion laughed darkly. “As the man who opened a door.”

“Oh, Jeyne.” Sansa laughed. “How did you…” she cut herself off and hugged her friend tightly.

“Nan said the princess was expecting you.” Jeyne said decidedly. “You are my friend and I am always willing to help you.”

“The princess is expecting someone who does not exist.” Sansa protested to the group before turning to Tyrion alone. “My lord, my name is Sansa Stark, and I am but a servant in this household.”

“Yes, and I am but the least son of a disgraced house that will no longer acknowledge me.” Tyrion chuckled darkly. “What has that got to do with anything?”

“I have deceived her.” Sansa argued sadly, her heartbreak evident in her voice.

“The princess will understand.” Tyrion replied immediately.

“Come along, child.” said Mordane. “The night is young. We must get you ready for the ball.”

“I do not wish to go.” Sansa said in the sulky tones more often associated with typical teenagers.

“But if you stay, the baroness wins.” Nan added.

“How can I face Margaery?” Sansa asked desperately.

“Because she deserves to hear the truth from the one she loves.” Tyrion said definitively. 

“A bird may love a fish, my lord, but where would they live?” Sansa asked with a sad laugh.

“Then I shall have to make your wings.” said Tyrion with a small smile that could almost be mistaken for kind. He was plainly startled when Sansa rushed in and hugged him.

“Ooh, come on! There is no time to waste.” Mordane complained. “Nan, get the dress.”

\-----/////-----

Margaery had expected the ball to be a wonderful time in which she could announce to the world how much she loved Catelyn de Tully. Now she was just sad, heartbroken and her mind filled with enough confusion for three other princesses. She couldn’t stand the party and hid in one of the hallways, where it was dark and cold, seeming much more suited to her mood.

“I understand you wanted to see me.” said King Mace Tyrell of Highgarden, the ruler of Westeros, upon finding her in the isolated corner.

“Yes, Father, I did.” she said softly.

“Listen, Margaery, perhaps it was unfair of me…” Mace began, saddened by the heartbroken look on his daughter’s face. “To put so much pressure on you about the marriage contract… I just thought it was time to make some changes in your life. You seemed to me to be floundering. And, uh, well, I just wanted to say… that this university thing is a brilliant idea. We don’t have to announce anything tonight.”

“I have made my decision.” Margaery said in a tone of complete resignation.

“Oh.” Mace said almost sadly.

\-----/////-----

Nan and Septa Mordane smiled wide and broadly as they shoved Sansa up and into the carriage, ushering her on. Pride shone on their faces. Just as they began to head out, Nan and Mordane were overcome with excitement and bounced up and down. Even Jeyne did something of a happy dance when she thought no one was looking. Tyrion decided he liked that kid.

“She looks like a masterpiece.” Jeyne said with a heavy sigh.

“She looks like her mother.” Mordane added after.

“Alright, let me get a look at those paintings of yours, shall we?” Tyrion asked the girl with a wry half-smile.

“Now?” Jeyne asked in shock.

“When you’re as old as I am, my friend, now is all you’ve got.” Tyrion chuckled darkly.

“Wait!” Nan stopped Jeyne and Tyrion before they could get too far away. “It’s tradition.”

Jeyne and the others stopped just in time to see Sansa lean out of the window and wave emphatically to the others. They were barely able to make her out in the darkness. The staff and the friends of Winterfell jumped up and waved back, except for Tyrion who just smirked at the display.


	15. Part 14: The Ball

Myrcella was exactly where Cersei had suggested she would be. The buffet table was packed full of finger foods and various other snacks. Across the table from her was another party-goer, also dressed as a horse and packing his plate full. The snout of his horse hat fell into his face and he grinned sheepishly up at her. Myrcella could only blush in response with a slight giggle.

Myrcella stepped away and towards another area packed with food. He followed and tipped his horse hat towards her like a true gentleman. “Whoa.” he mimicked a horse’s neigh.

Myrcella lifted hers in reply and whinnied back at him. He gestured back with a carrot and an amused laugh.

\-----/////-----

The party was still in full swing as Cersei and Joffrey went around the room and mingled. A fanfare exploded through the air and Cersei gripped her son’s hand tightly. The crowd all turned to face the dais where the royal family was expected to arrive.

“This is it, my darling.” the Baroness told Joffrey, and they both took deep, settling breaths.

“Friends, honored guests,” Mace Tyrell began, Margaery standing to the front and between him and his wife. “It gives us great pleasure on this festive occasion, not only to honor the coming of age of my only daughter but also to tell you of a long-awaited decision. So, without further adieu,” King Tyrell paused only for a moment as a figure rose up the staircase in the distance in a beautiful light blue dress and wearing gauzy, shimmering wings.

“Breathe.” Sansa murmured to herself. “Just breathe.”

“It is my great privilege…” the king’s voice carried out to her. “To announce the engagement of the Princess Margaery, to-”

Margaery startled forward suddenly, grabbing her father’s shoulder. Her eyes never once strayed from the sparkling figure in the distance, able to identify that brilliant red hair and tall, lithe frame anywhere. Sansa blinked warily, steeling herself for whatever else might come next. She smiled softly up at the princess. A broad smile spread across Margaery’s as well. Sansa had no idea of what could happen next, but she caught sight of Myrcella off in the distance hopping up and down in excitement.

The princess rushed down off of the dais, only able to see the girl she loved and thought she had lost. She came to a stop only about three feet in front of Sansa, too unsure to approach any further.

“Well, well, well.” began another, familiar voice. “What have we here?” only Joffrey hear Cersei speak and he spun to look as well.

“My mother said you were getting married.” Margaery said in shock and confusion, amazed at being able to see ‘Catelyn’ even one more time.

“She was misinformed.” Sansa scoffed in admiration of how brash Cersei could be. “But there is something I must tell you now… before another word is spoken.”

“Then you’re not engaged?” Margaery just _had_ to make sure. She looked truly panicked.

“No, I am not.” Sansa had to laugh a little at how desperate Margaery seemed to know. The princess exhaled heavily, it appeared she had been holding her breath and barely staying on her feet for a while.

“I was about to make the worst mistake of my life.” Margaery gasped and reached for Sansa’s arms.

“Who is she?” the king turned to the queen and exhaled heavily as Alerie gasped as well.

“My guess would be the Comtesse de Tully.” Queen Alerie sounded happier than the king would have expected.

“The who?” he asked, unsure of what she could possibly be talking about.

“Come on.” said Margaery. “There is someone I want you to meet.” she tried to escort Sansa up to the dais.

“Oh, but I really must speak with you.” Sansa tried to stop Margaery, but as usual, found it impossible.

“Whatever it is, my answer is yes.” Margaery replied automatically.

“No, wait, wait.” Sansa still protested. “Please.”

“Look, I invited the bandits from before.” Margaery pointed out. “I know they were good for a party.”

Cersei grabbed her son’s hand and dragged him quickly through the crowd. Her grip was like iron on his wrist.

“What are you doing?” Joffrey asked as he was towed along.

“Making you a prince.” she growled back at him, over her shoulder. Cersei popped out of the crowd suddenly and grabbed Sansa by the back of the dress, hauling her back.

“How dare you!” Margaery shouted, whipping back around when she heard Sansa cry out in pain. “Madame, contain yourself.”

“She is an imposter, my lady.” Cersei spat out.

“No!” Sansa cried out, as though the words physically hurt her. More than anything she had wanted to be the one to tell Margaery.

“Her name is Sansa Stark,” Cersei announced. “And she’s been a servant in my home for the past ten years.”

“A servant, Margaery?!” Mace asked. “Is this some kind of joke?” he asked angrily.

“Baroness, you are on dangerous ground!” the princess announced angrily, furious that someone would dare suggest such a thing about the woman she loved.

“Ask her yourself.” said Cersei. “She’s a grasping, devious little pretender, and it is my duty, Your Highness, to expose her as the covetous hoax she is.”

“Tell everyone who you are, Catelyn.” Margaery said in an attempt at being encouraging. “Tell them.”

“Bow before royalty, you insolent fraud!” Cersei ordered, she pointed to the princess and the dais in front of them.

“By the gods,” Margaery exclaimed in shock. “It can’t be true.”

She glanced between Sansa and Cersei desperately. Margaery was terrified of the prospect and hurt that she might have lied. Sansa could feel her heart falling apart in her chest. It only got worse after meeting Margaery’s eyes.

“Catelyn?” Margaery asked, a distinct crack in her voice as she spoke.

“Comtesse Catelyn de Tully was my mother.” Sansa barely managed to choke out the words through her tears. “I am what she says.”

Margaery sighed heavily, barely capable of maintaining her balance on her own two feet. She hated everything about her situation and could feel her parents staring down her back. She felt heartbroken, sad and scared.

“The apple…” Margaery said softly in realization. She added stupid to the list of what she was feeling. “That was you?”

“I can explain.” Sansa begged.

“Well, someone had better!” Mace bellowed from the dais where he had been observing.

“First, you’re engaged.” Margaery said in a low and broken voice. “And now you’re a servant?! I’ve heard enough.”

Margaery spun on her heel and stalked back towards the dais. The sight of the princess’ back turning away from her shattered Sansa on the inside.

“Margaery, please.” Sansa begged. Everyone around them was taken aback by how brazenly she used the princess’ first name. They gasped and murmured, unsure of what to do.

“Do _not_ address me so informally, madame.” Margaery turned and said coldly. “I am the heir to this throne… and you are just like the rest of them.”

Sansa began to weep only then. She wasn’t sure if she had ever known a pain like this before. Not since her father had died. Sansa could suddenly feel the eyes on her then and the whispers amongst the nobility wrapped around her like a cold blanket. She turned and fled, as though she could take off on the gauzy, translucent wings Lord Tyrion had made for her.

The pain of the still healing lashes on her back paled in comparison to that of her heart, consuming all of her to the point that as she ran down the staircase, she didn’t even notice that one of her mother’s slippers remained behind her. She came to a falling stop in front of Tyrion as he arrived in another carriage, but couldn’t bring herself to face him as she searched in the lowlight from the sand and dirt for Hodor.

“Sansa?!” he called out after her in concern. She didn’t acknowledge him and continued on towards Winterfell instead.


	16. Part 15: Broken Hearts

“What have you done?” Tyrion ran up to Margaery who crouched in a dark corner sadly. The lord panted from running up the flights of stairs.

“I have been born to privilege, and with that comes specific obligations.” Margaery quoted back to him.

“Horse shit.” Tyrion snorted. Margaery looked like an angry twelve-year-old sulking in a corner. Tyrion was not about to stand for it, royalty or not.

“You’re out of line, old man.” Margaery growled back, her spine straightening out a bit in anger.

“No, you are out of line.” Tyrion argued back brashly. “Have you any idea what that girl went through to get here tonight?”

“She lied to me.” Margaery growled, with the kind of anger only found in wounded animals.

“She came to tell you the truth, and you have fed her to the wolves.” Tyrion spat back, his own anger rising up from deep inside of him.

“What do you know?!” Margaery asked in almost a yell as she sprang up to her feet. “You build flying machines, and you walk on water. You build libraries, castles, and all kinds of wonderful structures. Yet, you know nothing about life.”

“What I do know is that a life without love is no life at all.” Tyrion said with a sense of finality.

“And love without trust- what of that?” Margaery’s voice was pained, hoarse, and almost lifeless.

“She’s your match, Margaery.” Tyrion said in a wounded voice. Not understanding why the princess couldn’t get that simple fact through her royal head.

“I am but a servant to my crown, and I have made my decision.” Margaery said in a choked and cut off tone. “I will not yield!”

Her voice had become more of a yell than a polite discussionary tone.

“Then I no longer think that you deserve her.” Tyrion turned resignedly and said. He placed the slipper on the railing and walked away.

As though summoned by the action itself, rain immediately began to pour on them. The droplets hitting the shoe made little tinkling sounds upon the glass. Margaery stepped towards it, ignoring the rain and ran her fingers across the beading. She stood there in the rain and stared out over the remnants of the party angrily.

\-----/////-----

Sansa ran through the rain on her way back to Winterfell. Thunder pounded in the distance as she finally made it to the door of the manor. Sansa had no idea of what would possibly come next but at this point, she didn’t really care anymore. The cold rain mixed with her warm and salty tears. It felt so fitting for the way she felt that she couldn’t quite bring herself to go inside. Sansa gasped for breath and sat against the wall, curling into herself as the rain ran down her nose, off of her ears, and the ends of her hair.

\-----/////-----

The next day, Sansa took out her frustrations on the weeds in the garden, feeling and enjoying the strain of her muscles and the dirt covering her in a thin layer across her skin. Her hands burned on the shovel handle. Her back stung from the lacerations. It felt better than anything else she could have been doing as she felt the dirt turn beneath her and knew she was helping something to grow and to live.

“I have it on good authority,” Cersei began, coming up behind her. “That before your rather embarrassing debut, the princess was about to choose Joffrey to be her groom.”

Sansa tossed the shovel to the side and stared up at the other woman against the sunlight.

“Royalty can be so fickle, can’t they?” Cersei asked as Sansa stomped around, picking up various greens and vegetables. “One minute, they’re spouting sonnets, and the next, you’re back to being the hired help. Although, I must say I’ve never seen you… _quite_ this dedicated in your chores.”

“What makes you think I do _any of this_ for you?” Sansa scoffed.

“Well, my, my, my.” Cersei chuckled darkly. “Aren’t we feisty this morning?”

“Let me pass.” Sansa demanded, carrying the basket towards the kitchen.

“You really have brought this upon yourself, you know?” Cersei asked still looking dismissively down upon her.

“I have work to do.” Sansa said in what almost amounted to a groan, her teeth gritted against the words.

“Let the others handle it.” Cersei ordered, blocking Sansa’s path forwards. The redheaded step-daughter brushed past her anyways.

“Don’t you understand?” Sansa asked, almost hysterical. “You’ve won! Go, move into your palace and leave us be!”

Sansa turned back towards the manor and the side-door to the kitchens, but she could feel Cersei, following behind her like a dark cloud.

“You are not my problem anymore.” Cersei intended for the words to be hurtful and dismissive. She wanted to see it hit Sansa like a stab wound to the chest and she got her wish.

“Is that what I have been to you? Your problem?” Sansa asked, her voice breaking as she asked the question. “I have done everything you’ve ever asked me to do, and still you’ve denied me the only thing I ever wanted!”

“And what was that?” Cersei asked her coldly.

“What do you think?” Sansa scoffed, amazed that Cersei didn’t already know. “You are the only mother I have ever known. Was there a time- even in its smallest measurement- that you loved me at all?”

“How can anyone love a pebble in their shoe?” Cersei asked, looking down at the other girl as though she were truly nothing to them.

When Sansa had thought her heart couldn’t possibly break any further, she had been wrong. She felt her heart, what was left of it, fall apart all over again. The young woman could barely believe she was still standing. She nodded an affirmation that she had heard the Baroness, but couldn’t bear to even look at her. Sansa turned and walked away, nearly unable to stand the sight of the other woman.

Nan ran to the banister and shouted to Sansa. “My lady!” she gasped for breath. “Oh, come and see! It’s back, all of it!”

Sansa turned and ran around the side of the manor.

“Oh, be careful with the candelabra.” Mordane could be heard ordering people about. “We don’t want any dents in it. It didn’t have any dents when it left here. You, take the chair there and be sure you don’t break anything.”

Sansa rounded the corner and saw wagons full of all of the manor’s lost and forgotten possessions.

“Look at it, all stuffed up there.” Cersei said, sounding quite pleased with herself. “Ah, Lord Littlefinger, you are right on time as always.” 

She smiled, like a beautiful golden snake as she greeted the man. Her eyes sharp and her mouth a thin line drawn across her face.

“It’s all here, Baroness, right down to the very last candlestick. “Lord Baelish gestured behind himself to the gods in the carts being brought into the manor.

“My father’s books, my mother’s paintings.” Sansa gasped. “You sold them to _him_?”

“Yes, and now they’re back.” Cersei said with a wry look. “I couldn’t very well have us looking like paupers when the King arrives.”

“Thank you… my lord.” Sansa barely managed to choke out. “This means the world to Winterfell Manor.”

Petyr Baelish, also known as ‘Littlefinger’ scoffed.

“I am a businessman, Sansa, not a philanthropist.” Littlefinger scoffed.

“I don’t understand.” Sansa ground out.

“I couldn’t very well have you around distracting the princess, now could I?” Cersei asked in yet another scoff.

“The Baroness and I have come to, how do you say, an arrangement?” Littlefinger added with a skeezy grin.

“You… for all of this.” Cersei gestured to the carts as well. “Although I do believe I may be getting the better end of this particular deal.”

“No! No.” yelled Nan.

“Sansa!” Septa Mordane ran to catch up with her former charge, just as Baelish’s men grasped hold of the girl’s arms and began to drag her to the lord’s carriage.


	17. Part 16: The Wedding

Despite having been invited solely for the purpose of attending, Lord Tyrion of Casterly Rock kept to his rooms for the duration of Princess Margaery’s wedding. He doubled at this point if she would have cared for him to be there. Her heart was freshly broken and he knew she didn’t want to marry the Baratheon boy. Tyrion still hurt for Sansa as well; he couldn’t shake the mental image of her fallen in the dirt, her wings torn and slipper forgotten behind her. For the first time in a long time, he felt the urge to pick up a brush and paint. Tyrion wanted to paint Sansa Stark into a more peaceful and content heart-state.

\-----/////-----

Margaery walked down the aisle stiffly, the songs being sung by the monks reminding her distantly of that day at the library with Sansa Stark. No matter what she was doing or where she was, even at her own wedding, she couldn’t stop herself from thinking about the redheaded commoner woman. Margaery didn’t want to be thinking of the Stark girl, but she kept popping up anyways. Renly Baratheon stood at the altar looking as handsome as he possibly could, but more forlorn than Margaery would have ever expected. The princess squirmed uncomfortably in her gown as Renly briefly met her eyes, truly saddened. She took a heavy, shaking breath as she knelt on the pillows provided before the priest, and for the first time could make out the sounds of Renly sobbing quietly.

Margaery didn’t know what to do as the young man cried softly beside of her. He murmured to himself lowly in a language she didn’t understand. If she hadn’t known better, she would have sworn it sounded like a cry for help of some kind. Margaery hated the situation for both of them but didn’t really see any way out for either of them. He whimpered in a near-childlike manner.

The priest began to chant and pray in Old Valyrian over the pair as Margaery reached out and took her hand. Renly only began to cry harder, the sound beginning to carry out where everyone else could begin to hear it as well. The priest glanced at him in concern, seeming more than a little confused but didn’t stop the prayer. If Margaery listened closely enough and strained her ears, she could hear another man in the audience crying softly as well. Margaery squeezed the hand in her own tightly as an attempt to offer some semblance of comfort.

Together everyone in the church offered up a sung ‘so mote it be’. Everyone in the chapel could hear the gasping, shrieking, or moaning variants of sobs. Margaery’s own heart began to break for the prince as well, as opposed to only herself. She wasn’t sure of how much more pain she could stand, on behalf of herself or anyone else. Margaery had honestly begun to think Renly Baratheon might hyperventilate. There was a distinct possibility he was the only one in anywhere near as much as she was. It struck Margaery as hilarious and she fell into peals of uncontrollable laughter.

She could feel every eye on her and knew her parents were looking on disapprovingly, but that only made her laugh harder. Margaery shoved herself up to her feet and stood, turning to look Renly in the face, pulling him along with her. She grinned at him, despite his tears. She pushed her veil out of her face and grabbed his shoulders. He really was a handsome man.

“No, no, no, please. Margaery, please.” he finally said, putting more of his weight into her grasp than the princess had expected. He continued to plead in that language Margaery had heard him speaking in before.

“Renly, Lord Renly, hold on for just a moment, please.” Margaery tried to get the young man to calm down. She looked him dead in the eyes. “I know _exactly_ how you feel.”

Margaery leaned in and gently kissed his cheek. Alarmed, the king and queen of Westeros stood to get a better view of what their daughter was up to. Margaery gestured to the other man who had been crying as well. “Go.” she murmured softly.

Renly began to yell excitedly in that language and rushed towards that young blonde man, beautiful flowers embroidered across his formal dress coat. He ran quickly into his arms and kissed him, all over his face. It was careless, free, and beautiful. It was exactly what Margaery had needed to see.

Cersei jumped up and shook her fist, throwing herself into Joffrey’s arms happily. He almost shook with joy. The Baratheon delegates argued as Margaery shrugged off her over-robe. King Mace turned to the Queen, Alerie.

“And I thought I had problems.” He muttered to his wife. Alerie grinned back. They both began to laugh as well, covering their faces as Margaery ran all of the ways out of the chapel, the castle, and into the street. She glanced around, unsure of what to do or where to look for the person she needed to see. Eventually, she came upon the Winterfell produce cart. Nan was manning it, looking sad and exhausted.

“Where is she?” she asked the elderly woman, a desperate, pale, and even apologetic look on her face.

“The Baroness?” Nan asked in faux confusion.

“No, Cat- uhm, I mean Sansa. “The name felt foreign and unnatural on her tongue, but it didn’t feel bad. 

“She… I-She has been sold, Your Highness.” Nan barely managed to get the words out.

“Sold?” Margaery asked in confusion. “To whom?” Fear suddenly struck to the princess’ core.

“Lord Petyr ‘Littlefinger’ Baelish, Your Highness. Just after the masquerade ball.” Myrcella ran up to her boyfriend’s side from where he had run after the princess. They had gotten quite close after the masque. The truly wounded look on Margaery’s face touched Myrcella’s heart. Margaery swallowed hard and steeled her nerves.

“Tell no one we have spoken,” Margaery ordered. “For all shall reveal itself in due time.”

Nan nodded her understanding solemnly and smiled a little at the sight.

“Podrick, follow me.” said Margaery to Myrcella’s page-boy boyfriend. She turned and ran as soon as he nodded back. Myrcella turned to grin back at Nan as she watched their backs recede on horseback in the distance.


	18. Part 17: The Return

The only thing Sansa got to keep of her life at Winterfell was the clothes on her back and the memories she had made. She was exhausted, miserable, and had discovered she hated everything about this man and his home. Sansa had thought nothing could be worse than losing the woman she loved and being forced to live with her step-family in the home she was the rightful heir to but denied. She took a deep semi-calming breath to settle herself before knocking on the door to the dining hall. A jangling sound rattled behind her as she moved.

“Enter.” Littlefinger announced to the room, and the dirty redhead came in with her cloth wrapped burden. “Oh, I do so hate to see you in irons. I’d remove them if only you would promise not to run away again.”

Littlefinger stood from where he had been working at the long table and stood across from her with one of his crooked and slimy smiles.

“You belong to me now.” he said lowly.

Sansa spread a series of rapiers across the table to clean them.

“I belong to no one and the least of all to you.” she growled back, feeling as though she were having that conversation for the four hundredth time.

“Oh, I do wish you would reconsider my offer.” Littlefinger leaned across the table to stare into her face.

“I would rather not.” Sansa scoffed, truly disgusted by the older man as she tossed another sword into the pile.

“I had a horse like you once-” Petyr began as he stepped around the table and placed a hand on the small of her back, leading her to in front of the fireplace for a moment. “It was a magnificent creature. Stubborn, just like you. Willful to a fault. It, too, just needed to be… broken.”

Sansa turned away from Lord Baelish, no longer able to look him in the face without feeling vomit rise up in her throat. Distantly, as though it were happening to someone else, she could feel his fingers in her hair.

“You will maintain your distance, sir.” Sansa said in a low growl of a voice.

“Oh, but you didn’t say _please_.” Baelish whispered, bringing the lock of hair up to his nose and inhaling deeply. Sansa swallowed the lump of fear that had formed in her throat as though it were a rock of some kind. She could feel him closing in behind her and what she assumed (and hoped) to be his dagger against her derriere.

Sansa whirled around, grabbing the hilt of the weapon. The tip ended up directly pressed beneath Lord Baelish’s chin. His eye crossed almost comically as he attempted to keep the dagger in his view.

“Please.” she said in a low and broken growl of a voice, her pale blue-grey eyes intense and determined.

“I could have you hang for this.” Baelish said in a warning tone, slowly pulling the key to Sansa’s bonds from his pocket.

“ _Not_ if you are dead.” Sansa growled, her hatred boiling up from deep inside of her.

“I do love your spirit.” Baelish chuckled darkly. He grabbed the hand that held the sword and dragged Sansa in towards himself, mouth open. Sansa wrested herself from his grip and dragged the blade across his face. He groaned and covered his face. Sansa whipped away and grabbed a sword off the table, and she leveled both weapons at her enemy. He fell back into the chair with a shriek.

“My father was an expert swordsman, my lord. He taught me well.” Sansa chuckled darkly. “Now hand me that key or I swear on his grave, I will slit you from navel to nose.”

\-----/////-----

Margaery galloped into the courtyard of the Baelish estate. The princess could feel her heart in her throat as though it were trying to escape out of nerves. Podrick and Margaery dismounted with a jump and suddenly she only wanted to be where Sansa was. She took a run for the door just as Sansa was running out. She seemed exhausted but pleased with herself.

Just as soon as the young redhead met Margaery’s eyes she looked as though she would burst into tears. Sansa was plainly crestfallen. She had so many things she wanted to tell the girl she didn’t know what to say. Margaery stopped around five feet away from her and looked morosely down at her. Sansa smiled slowly back.

“Hello.” Margaery said softly, by way of greeting, unsure of what to do now that she was in front of the other woman.

“Hello.” Sansa replied, unsure of why the princess was there and worried about what trouble she might get into for having escaped her ‘master’, or even still for having lied to Margaery herself. “Uhm, may I ask why you have come here?”

“I- uh, I heard about your being sold and I had uhm, come to rescue you?” Margaery said sheepishly. It had become clear Sansa had already saved herself.

“Rescue me?” Sansa asked sadly in almost a scoff. “A commoner?”

Sansa chuckled darkly and began to walk away. Margaery was still in her gown from her wedding. She clearly seemed uncomfortable in it, fidgeting with her skirts. Sansa still thought she looked truly beautiful, meanwhile, she was covered in dirt and ash; hair matted and filthy.

“Actually, I have come to beg your forgiveness.” Margaery turned to watch her leave and called out after her. “I… I offered you the world at your fingertips, and at the first test of my honor, I have betrayed your trust. Please, Sansa.”

Sansa whirled around to look Margaery full in the face again.

“Say it again.” Sansa said shakily.

“I’m very sorry.” Margaery said, trying to put as much of her heart and her feelings into the words as she could.

“No, not that.’ Sansa choked out. “The part where you said my _name_.” A few tears escaped and trailed through the grime on her cheeks.

“Sansa.” Margaery said softly on a heavy exhale. Sansa laughed softly and wiped at her cheeks. “Perhaps you would be kind enough to help me find the owner of this rather remarkable shoe.”

Margaery presented it kindly to the girl with a flourish and Sansa gasped.

“Where did you _find_ that?” Sansa asked.

“That girl is my match in every way.” Margaery added. “Please tell me I haven’t lost her.”

Sansa turned away to hide her face as she began to cry quietly once more. She choked down her feelings and did her best to say what was best for them all as opposed to what she was truly feeling.

“It belongs to a peasant, Your Highness, who only pretended to be a courtier to save a man’s life.” Sansa sat down heavily, only barely catching herself as her knees gave out on her. She looked pitifully up at the princess, her heart giving out after all she had been through. Margaery knelt down on one knee before her.

“Yes, I - I know,” Margaery said. “And the name is Margaery if you don’t mind. I kneel before you not as a princess, but as a woman in love, but I would feel like a queen…”

Margaery picked up Sansa’s foot and dirty shoe, slipping it off of her.

“If you, Sansa de Stark, would be my wife.” Margaery slipped the delicate glass slipper onto her foot as she quirked an eyebrow with a soft and vulnerable smile.

Sansa laughed and cried brokenly, a smile crossing her face as her eyes squeezed shut in disbelief. She covered her face and fell forwards into Margaery’s arms. The princess stood quickly, Sansa held tightly against her and swung her about, not caring about her dirtied and wedding gown. They both laughed in amazement and happiness. Margaery kissed her suddenly, still unable to keep from smiling and laughing. Sansa’s feet didn’t even touch the floor.


	19. Part 18: The Audience

Cersei and Joffrey stared Myrcella down harshly as they sat down for dinner.

“How was I supposed to know she’d come flying out of the side door?” Myrcella asked, amazed that they would attempt to blame her for the princess taking off from the wedding without a Lannister in tow. “She was supposed to be getting married.”

“I heard that the princess spoke to you. What did she say?” Joffrey asked his sister with a fierce glare.

“Well, I can’t be sure. It all happened so quickly.” Myrcella snorted. “But I think what she said was, ‘serves me right for choosing a foreigner over your brother.” Myrcella lied with a little grin.

Joffrey and Cersei fell into peals of giggles in delight, buying everything Myrcella told them; hook, line, and sinker.

“Well, very good.” Cersei said with a self-satisfied laugh, as though she had had something to do with it. “Well, perhaps we should just let her fret about it for a few days.”

A bell clanged outside all four of them leaped up from where they were eating dinner to go to the door.

“I’ll get it! I’ll get it!” Joffrey yelled and raced to the front of the pack to answer the door first.

“His Supreme Majesty King Mace Tyrell…” Podrick looked with a little grin to Myrcella and back to the family as a whole. “Requests an audience with the Baroness Cersei de Lannister and her children immediately.

His words were careful and measured. He stared directly at Myrcella as though trying to pass some messages along with only his eyes. She couldn’t quite grasp it.

“Oh, is anything wrong?” Cersei asked, a small smile still pulling at her lips.

“No, milady.” the page said with a conspiratorial wink. “The king also demanded that you arrive in style.”

“Mmm. Then in style, we shall be.” Cersei said with a truly triumphant grin. Her daughter and eldest son jumped up and squealed as well.

\-----//////------

When the Lannisters were paraded in, they were wearing their best gowns and suits, though not the same as from the masque. Cersei seemed truly proud of herself and supremely confident, her children trailing along behind her. A small crowd of nobility lined the hall on the sides, watching them present themselves before the royalty. For once, the princess wore a tiara and she stood slightly behind her parents’ thrones. The Lannisters owed deeply before them.

“Baroness.” the king said with a solemn nod, his and everyone else ’s expressions severe. “Did you or did you not lie to Her Majesty the Queen of Westeros?”

“Choose your words wisely, madame, for they may be your last.” the queen added. Margaery smirked as she watched realization cross Cersei’s face.

“A, uhm, a woman would do practically anything for the love of her children, Your Majesties.” Cersei cleared her throat anxiously and stared down at her feet for a moment before replacing her facade. “Perhaps I did get a little carried away.”

“Mother!” Joffrey exclaimed as though he had no idea what they were talking about. “What have you done? Your Majesties, I am a victim here, just like the rest of you. She has lied to us both, and I am ashamed to call her family.”

“How dare you turn on me, you little ingrate!” Cersei grabbed her son from where he had pushed in front of her. Myrcella winced at the display.

“You see? You see what I have had to put up with?!” Joffrey asked, panting for breath after the brief tussle as Myrcella audibly groaned and rolled her eyes.

“Silence, the both of you!” the king shout and bashed his staff on the dais. “Good gods. Are they always like this?” he looked to Myrcella.

“Worse, your majesty.” she answered sadly.

“Myrcella, darling, I would hate to think you might have had anything to do with this.” Cersei spun on her daughter.

“Of course not, Mother.” Myrcella said with a chuckle. “I’m only here for the food.”

“Baroness de Lannister,” the queen recaptured their attention. “You are forthwith stripped of your title and you and your horrible son are to be shipped off wherever the Cartier decides is best for you on the next available boat… unless, by some miracle, someone here wishes to speak for you.”

The crowd murmured softly as Cersei glanced around desperately, searching for someone she had yet to alienate. No one spoke up as Joffrey stared down at his feet, already resigned to his fate. Silence fell over the hall.

“There seem to be quite a few people out of town.” Cersei attempted to lie.

“I will speak for her.” a voice lifted up, someone’s familiar timbre echoed from just out of sight. Someone entered the throne room from behind the Lannister family and all of the lookers-on, knelt in a bow. Joffrey and Cersei were the last as they turned and attempted to process the sight of Sansa Stark in a tiara, bright red hair beautifully tamed and in a gown that accentuated long disguised beauty. “She is, after all, my step-mother.”

The people rose as Cersei Lannister smothered a gasp. Sansa glanced up at the dais and met Margaery’s eyes, where she smiled proudly back. Sansa walked right up to the former Baroness and stared her down. She slowly dipped into a curtsy.

“Your Highness.” she said softly with a slight nod.

Margaery spoke up then.

“Joffrey, I don’t believe you have met…” And she gestured to Sansa. “My wife.”

Sansa had not finished with Cersei yet, however.

“I want you to know that I will forget you after this moment…” Sansa stared the older woman down ferociously. “And I will never think upon you again. But you, I am quite certain, will think about me every single day for the rest of your life.” 

“And, uhm, how long might that be?” Cersei asked, beginning to fear for her life. She had never thought her life would end up in Sansa’s hands.

Sansa Stark took a deep, calming, and settling breath before looking up to her mother and father in law.

“All I ask, Your Majesties…” she swallowed her nerves harshly. “Is that you show her the same courtesy that she has bestowed upon me while I lived under _her_ roof.”

Sansa looked down meaningfully at her step-mother before turning and joining her wife on the dais without looking back.


	20. Epilogue

Alerie of Westeros sent Cersei and Joffrey to the laundry rooms beneath the palace. Henceforward the pair would be considered servants in the castle. Neither of them had ever had to work for their room and board before.

“After you’ve washed the tablecloths, you can start on the napkins, and then you move those over there.” the head-woman instructed.

“Joffrey.” Cersei gestured to her elder son.

“What?” he asked.

“Well, you heard the woman.” she scoffed and directed him to start working.

“Yes, and so did you.” he replied with a laugh.

“But _I’m_ management.” Cersei said with a smirk and a wiggle of her eyebrow.

“Like hell you are.” Joffrey snorted. “You’re just the same as me- a big nobody!”

“How _dare_ you speak to me in that way!” Cersei yelled angrily. “I am of noble blood.”

“And you are getting on my nerves!” the head-woman yelled back at them, swinging her bag of dirty laundry and hitting the former baroness upside the head with it.

Cersei fell back and dragged Joffrey with her into the giant washtub. They were accompanied by the raucous laughter of everyone else who was working down there as well. She was drenched and horrified, her son still splashing beside of her. The head-woman chuckled as well.

“Now get to work.” she gestured dismissively. “You’re of a noble color as well.”

The head-woman stalked away leaving the purple woman and her purple son. Joffrey sobbed into his smock as Cersei thrashed about angrily.

\-----/////-----

“Is it bad that I get some sick sort of amusement out of this?” Margaery asked on the balcony overlooking where the Lannisters had begun working.

“Just a little bit. You, ma’am, are supposed to be charming.” Sansa teased with a small grin Margaery didn’t quite know what to do with. It warmed her inside when Myrcella passed by with Podrick, and cast her own grin to Margaery’s wife.

“And we, Princess, are supposed to be living happily ever after.” Margaery informed her knowingly.

“Says who?” Sansa asked with a small grin.

“What do you know, I don’t really know where I picked that up.” Margaery laughed and met Sansa’s lips halfway, kissing her gently by the window as the sunset in the distance.


End file.
